


The Risk In Wanting

by oly_chic



Series: Finding Peace [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alexithymia, Drama, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Protectiveness, Psychological Drama, Psychosis, Romance, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Spark Sexual Interfacing, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Tragedy, Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, acts of love, eventual dub-con situation, growing self-aware AI, non-major cannon character deaths, warzone violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:38:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 89,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7054015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oly_chic/pseuds/oly_chic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now established on Earth, the next step is syncing the Earth warfront efforts to strengthen other Autobot fronts. </p><p>For Jazz and Prowl, this means there's less shared privacy for squeezing intimate needs, physical and emotional. They realize they need those moments, though, for sanity and comfort, because frankly they're both walking along the edge of (in)stability.     </p><p> </p><p>  <i>(Sequel, written for Stand-Alone as well) (No warnings apply to Chapter 1) (Interface-free version info inside)</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer: I don't own any Transformer franchises.**  
>  G1 with bits of IDW, Bayverse, and War For Cybertron (WFC).
> 
> This is written for both new readers and those who read "Emotions". Inside this story contains "Emotions" recaps and a 7 mega-orn gap between fics. Events during the gap will be replayed through flashbacks, like when Prowl's tac-set was restarted. I'm saving that for what I consider delicious reasons.
> 
> An explanation of changes between "Emotions" & "Risks" (e.g. POV frame change) can be found in the series description, to keep this A/N less cluttered. Same goes with definitions, like emotion filters.
> 
> This fic also includes interfacing, which is brand new for me but the muses have eviscerated my resistance (thanks, AO3 & Tumblr!). While not frequent, FFN has the T-rated version if you don't care for that. Same username, "Oly Chic."
> 
> IMPORTANT final note: If you don't understand what the AI says in this chapter, don't worry; it's largely just demonstrating a starting point for the AI's thinking & communicating. That'll change as a war-centered tactical AI named Barricade becomes something a bit more cannon-like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I expect chapters to be overall shorter than "Emotions," but this chapter ended up a lot longer. Reason for shorter chapters is faster posting. I've got a busy RL summer.

Not many off-duty actions riled Jazz's gears, but Ironhide was making a habit of repeating one such activity over and over. Worse was Jazz couldn’t say or do anything about it, despite a hot need to do so _right_ now. Berating a mech for daring to spend time in his own quarters wasn’t exactly sane or reasonable, and no amount of application of Jazz’s considerable skills in misdirection would hide that fact. Nor could he give a reason or lie for why _he_ needed Ironhide to be anywhere else without coming across as petulant and probably a bit shifty.

His true reason was that Ironhide’s quarters were sandwiched between his and Prowl’s quarters, but that little factoid was an obstacle he easily overcame until almost 2 mega-orns ago. There weren’t any new physical restrictions blocking the slinky Ops mech as he moved through the officers’ emergency-only exit tunnel, tucked indiscreetly behind all officer quarters. Unrestrained movement wasn’t the hard-stop issue, but rather the sudden inability to sneak _silently_ as he passed behind the wall shared by tunnel and Hide’s quarters. If Ironhide would just stop sleeping, entertaining, or engaging in whatever personal hobbies that had warrior-sharpened hearing within range, Jazz wouldn’t have cared. As it was now he was forced to care, and Jazz was convinced that Hide’s hobbies included following unseen forces guiding him to unwittingly become an effective road-block for the saboteur.

For the most part, when on-base during the past 2 mega-orns, he repeatedly resigned himself to only having one of his few methods for enjoying time with his label-free companion: the private alone time available by fake training sessions behind locked officers-only doors. For Jazz that one avenue sufficed plenty in the beginning, as being the _only_ option during the first half of the 7 mega-orns since starting their undefined relationship. Just after crossing that halfway threshold two positive changes occurred, followed by two very negative changes barely a few deca-orns later, bringing back trace memories and yearnings of a loss Jazz had forgotten.

Those positive changes and new options came about when Prowl finally passed the period of heightened medical attention on his health. When Prowl no longer required active out-patient monitoring by his brothers and medics his arguments made short work of any attempts to still continue. Prowl never elaborated much about the contents of such arguments, beyond the persistence of Bluestreak wanting to still recharge with Prowl. That admission came only after Bluestreak nearly caught them because the young mech had another nightmare about Prowl’s near-death and made an impromptu visit to his brotherly cousin’s quarters.

Sharp and sudden increases in outside noises snatched his attention, resulting in a glare directed at the wall separating Hide’s and his quarters. Despite the soundproofing he detected Ironhide's laughter being joined by Ratchet’s, courtesy of his agitated state and sophisticated audial systems. Ratchet was another one of his occasional road-blockers, but one he and Prowl mostly got around by convincing him anything suspicious on the spark sensor readouts was from rigorous “training.”

Dizziness swept Jazz’s system and his tired frame started swaying again. His processor ache was getting worse, and now seemingly radiating the pain through his spinal strut. All he wanted was to recharge and recover but such hopes were for not, while alone and in a hyper-vigilant mindset. If he knew he could slip undetected to Prowl’s quarters via that tunnel or the hallways without practically seizing up from Red-worthy paranoia he’d have done so, but between witnesses and Red Alert’s cameras, everything ultimately came up as a no-go option.

It was all rather twisted as if to mock him; Jazz was too wound in a dangerous Special Ops way to make his way somehow to Prowl’s or trust a commlink request, and the only way Jazz could safely unwind was to recharge with Prowl. A mere handful of joors  ago he returned from what was supposed to be a 6-orn training course with several of his Earth- and non-Earth-stationed agents, in northern Canada. They weren’t even a quarter of the way through when they stumbled across a Decepticon reconnaissance taskforce. Help wasn’t an option for many reasons, forcing him, his Earth team, and Earth-ignorant agents into playing a dangerous secrecy game.

Jazz wrenched his mind to away from the details, having finally finished obsessing and listing all those reasons and observations in a lengthy report. He'd be going over it all in an officer meeting soon enough. Instead he changed his attention to focus on calmer realities and slowing down non-critical systems with repeat override codes. His off-word agents were safely dispatched to Special Op check-in points and Blaster was monitoring their travels; his Earth agents were finally calmed down as much as their personalities allowed, and he managed to fake a passable state during First Aid's check with only an exhaustion and tension warning. He retired to his quarters as promised, but not much else.

These were the times Jazz most missed what a partner or co-habiting mech could offer: security. Alas, besides it being unseemly for the TIC to have a roomie, his role as Head of Special Ops made it impossible to share. The ratio of dangerous items to normal ones in his quarters heavily favored danger, and most of those were disguised as normal items. A glance to his desk and entertainment table suggested he had more stylus pens than Prowl, but in reality only two could be used for their apparent use.

There was also his love for dancing, singing, and other loud activities. To have a roomie he'd need to find someone of near-equal rank, educated on safety within a living space of a Special Ops mechs, know how to diffuse any triggered reactions or nightmares, and generally enjoy the same things when as him when he wasn’t in XOps-mode. Without that match or close enough near-compatible, his systems, sophisticated devices, and grids were his roommates. They could secure a room tight, were coded to identify hidden weapons, could be forced to improve or ignore his entertainment activities, and while they couldn't help him work through a trigger he could at least replace them should he inadvertently destroy them.

He assumed no better option would present itself once he became TIC. Something akin to an option made itself acutely known when he and Prowl finally were able to recharge in his quarters without any interference or distractions. The first time they recharged together, back when Prowl was recovering, Jazz made the stipulation he recharge on the berth’s outside edge so he could disengage from Prowl if an angry Ratchet came looking. The first time they recharged without precautions for worried family or nosy medics Prowl insisted that Jazz go through his recharge routine in detail with him. After listening the tactician offered his own simplified solution: that Prowl sleep on the outside and Jazz on the inside. Prowl offered to keep his doorwings outward with the sensors turned fully on to detect even abnormal air currents, so long as Jazz behaved by keeping his hands and mouth to himself. Jazz could partway prop himself up so he’d have instant view of the room over Prowl’s prone form.

Those doorwings and a mind capable of being as sharp and predatory as him “ruined” Jazz by becoming his newest addiction. Jazz craved that kind of stress-free recharge. He modified Prowl’s room to have a security system duplicate to his own, masking the upgrades under other necessary upgrades he personally did to everyone’s quarters. Prowl didn't think he could do it with Red touting right on his heels, but he managed to wear down the security director by doing Prime’s room before Prowl’s. Inferno had to gather up the distraught and exhausted officer, leaving Jazz to do as he pleased to Prowl’s quarters (within permission).

“Jazz!” a stern voice snapped from outside his door. He jumped and turned mid-air to face the surprise before registering it as Prowl’s. “Open this door. We’re finishing the reports _now_. I don’t care if it takes all night, and I'm not listening to your excuses about being too busy because of another mission. I’m tired of you putting these off.”

Jazz commanded the door open and barely finished his reply, “Lead the way,” before Prowl pushed his way inside the room. Hallway voices were briefly heard, with Ironhide’s laughter suggesting his quarters’ door was left open. When the noises were muffled again Jazz glimpsed Prowl’s arms filled with datapads.

He watched Prowl set them down on his table. “What’s on those?”

“Absolutely nothing. I just grabbed an armful of spare datapads from my office and walked here with a crossed expression to avoid questions.” He flicked a doorwing with indifference. “First Aid comm'ed me a little bit ago for a routine check-in and mentioned in passing that Ratchet and Prime were looking at some new imports in Ironhide’s quarters. When I probed for an update on you he added that he wasn’t entirely certain you’ll be ready to resume on-board officer responsibilities next shift.”

The tactician glanced back at the pile, taking a moment to straighten the corners. “I think I actually have a few work items for you back in my office, but from First Aid’s reply I thought it unlikely your mindset has adequately adapted to the role of stationed officer running a base. “

“What a sweet way to say ‘too fragged up to sit through regular reports.’”

Prowl ignored the tease. “I also opted to not take the time and search for them underneath the pile Prime evidently left me, in the chance you were about to recharge alone.”

Jazz’s anxiety subsided temporarily enough for an affectionate smile at that admission. It wasn’t the first time Prowl took the initiative to prove a cover story, but outside of actually bringing work the mech didn’t bother because his efforts tended to make Jazz sound like a total slacker and Prowl a complete hardaft. Such was the case now but Jazz didn’t care. If anything, others would automatically excuse the secretly-fake accusations due to his mission, while adding the exchange as another marker of proof for their perceptions of a cold tactician. Not that SIC had any emotional investment in fixing their perceptions, and Jazz’s current interests didn’t include another explanation about the subject.

The TIC’s smile turned coy. “Should I start timing my reports around Prime’s new workload handoff, so you stop bringing reports waiting on me with you or to your quarters?”

“Do that and I’ll take away one of your security mice droids.”

“Don’t be cruel,” he protested with an exaggerated pout. “Now help me get through my routine before I’m nearly dead on my peds again.” Allowing Prowl to know, let alone participate in Jazz’s pre-recharge routine took significant trust, aside from revealing just how neurotic and distrusting he could be underneath the partying music-enthusiast. Much of that trust bridge was forged by knowing Prowl faced similar struggles, albeit of a more personal nature, with equal gravity should a mistake occur.

Rather than reply, his guest moved to the furthest corner of the living section for Jazz’s quarters. He glided around the vase holding drumsticks, knowing they weren't actually drumsticks. Standing on the tips of peds to reach the corner, he pressed a code against the buttons hidden beneath the wall surface. Activating one section of the top detection grid complete, he continued moving downward until he activated the next three, to provide ceiling-to-floor coverage.

Jazz wasted no time doing the same until they completed all sensor locations, from walls to furniture, for all but the berth area. After Wheeljack accidently setoff emergency protocols to automatically open all doors (which thankfully had enough mechs scrambling to hide their own secrets or stashes – or in the case of a few officers looking for ways to bust their “favorite” Autobot soldiers – that no one noticed the pair in mid overload), Jazz installed holographic one-way dividers in his and Prowl's quarters to hide the berth from an open door. Directional sound mufflers also adorned those dividers for the same reasons.

Prowl waited for Jazz to finish all but the last task, keeping his thoughts to himself about disruptive habits. It wasn't his place to point out Jazz's, even though he considered it when Jazz pressed him for allowing modifications in his own quarters. In the end he agreed because how could he not accept Jazz's core-deep problems when Jazz accepted his?

Jazz initiated the timer for his "mice," or a secondary scanning system with mobility and climbing capabilities. By the end the tasks drained what little renewed energy Prowl’s entrance brought him. He crawled onto his berth and settled on the wedged pillow to view the whole quarters.

Prowl handed him his knee pillow for alleviating strain from his hip's permanent damage, keeping his hand on the furthest because he knew to not yet touch the saboteur. When Jazz was done Prowl laid down on his side by the edge, as flat as possible with his doorwings fanning off the edge. Optimally spread and angled for detecting motion, frequencies, temperatures, etc. throughout the room, he reset the sensors to near maximum sensitivity. He inquired softly, "Would you like me to read to you until you fall asleep?"

"Are your doorwing sensors set at max?" the surveying mech instead asked.

"Ninety percent. I'll turn them up to 100% once I'm done reading, so I don't get excessive feedback of my own voice."

"What about 95%?"

"Ninety-three percent is the max I can do before it becomes an ache."

Jazz shortly nodded once. "Do that."

"It's done. Do you want me to read to you?"

"Very quietly."

"Of course, I won't speak loud enough to mask other sounds," Prowl acknowledged the fear, knowing this was just how Jazz was when he couldn't decompress. There was really only one type of reading material that worked in these cases.

He pulled out a datapad from his subspace, mostly memorized in case of this so he could watch Jazz. His voice was so low it was near mute but he knew Jazz's audios would hear him just fine. "Energon supply reserves, consumption rates, and risks for last week, as submitted yesterday by Hound and analyzed by me. Consumption rates are organized by day and shift, which I compare against schedule roster to see if any consumption rate spikes or dips correspond with a single or set of Autobots. Day one, shift one: Hound reports..."

Prowl started into the report, often glancing at Jazz's visor to watch for any dimming from slowly initiating recharge. He had real reading material, but he found that Jazz was quicker to fall asleep listening to daily reports about positive _normal_ and _safe_ operations. He suspected listening to it walked Jazz back from that DANGER EVERYWHERE edge and welcomed him back to a world of secured normality. Helped him return to being a mech who planned fun outings for bored Autobots; a mech who sometimes woke Prowl up by playfully nibbling on his fingers.

When Prowl finished the comprehensive report he noted with a sweep of his optics and doorwing sensors that Jazz was _almost_ in recharge. He pulled out a second datapad. "Routine maintenances checks, as cumulatively prepared by the following Autobots..."

After finishing the first eighth he finally detected Jazz falling completely into recharge. While he strongly preferred to keep his doorwing sensors down to 25% when not gathering tactical data, he knew better than to have anything less than 100% when Jazz was still in these stages. He made sure he wouldn't roll into Jazz's prone form, but he did move his hand close to Jazz's wedge pillow. Prowl turned up his hand's sensors all the way, knowing that their unique heightened sensitivity would be enough to sense distress in Jazz’s upper body. Committed to recharging in that position, he offlined.

|||||

Prowl's doorwing and hand sensors pulled him out of recharge prematurely when movement was detected, but when the alerts came back with a zero-danger rating - well, a danger rating close enough to be negligible - he opted for ignoring it and fall back into recharge. Those intentions changed when that “non-suspicious movement” ended with a hot mouth nipping his neck's muscle cables. His optics onlined and he found Jazz's upper body rolling into his chassis, the saboteur very much awake and stretching out a crick in his waist from the awkward recharge angle.

"Feeling better?" Prowl quietly inquired, all heightened senses and sensors focused on detecting any outward signs of Jazz’s mental state that might be described in the Autobot physiatrists classification database as a concerning sign. A database not meant for anyone lacking proper trained in evaluating and deducing as such, but Prowl was never keen on waiting for an evaluation by what few physiatrists were left over a cryptic file masking all identity indicators; rather, he often opted to pair his unlimited access to the database with his statistical knowledge and own databases. So far his success ratings weren’t below a failing threshold, at least.

"Mmhmm."

"May I turn my doorwing sensors down to their normal level?"

"Mmhmm, unless you're feeling daring to feel something stronger than 25% input."

"I'm not." Prowl took that allowance as evidence Jazz was at or near functional for typical base operations. He turned all of his sensors back to his normal sensitivity ranges, including those in his hand. Prowl deliberately never told Jazz about the hand sensors, uncertain what a hyper-vigilant or interface-wanting Jazz would do with that information.

"Okay," his berth partner easily accepted. "Thanks for coming over here."

“You’re welcome.”

Jazz chuckled at the polite reply, spoken as if his mouth wasn’t hovering over Prowl’s neck and his hands weren’t languidly moving down Prowl's body. His movements were deliberately slow for reasons besides building a mood, but because of the worries in the back of his mind pointed to a lingering sense of danger.

All of the TIC’s ghosting touches came to a sudden stop, when Prowl's hand softly tapped a cable port by his midsection. Jazz ex-vented against his requestor's neck, burying his face. "Sorry, but not now, Prowler."

"Why?" Prowl protested at being stopped over a hardline connection with Jazz.

Jazz shook his helm, dragging it across Prowl's shoulder. "I'm still running too hot to risk a data connection with you. I know how important it is to you, but I can't promise that during an overload I won't automatically rush you with hostile data."

When Jazz felt his companion ever-so-slightly slump forward, he brought his hands up to Prowl's face. He guided the mech's face to his own, knowing that what Prowl wanted was direction. A large chuck of why Prowl wanted Jazz's feedback data was to direct his efforts and plans. If Prowl didn't get the chance to satisfy the needs that stemmed from being an obsessive planner, then the next best solution was to literally drag Prowl's attention in the direction Jazz wanted it and tell him the plan. "How about you let me burn off my excess _attentiveness_ while you relax? No data needed."

The argument was met with a frown. "You know how difficult it is for me to overload without data."

' _Oh yes, I_ so _do_.' Jazz was very familiar with the issue they ran into once Prowl's tac-set was back up and running smoothly. Without something occupying the tac-set during interfacing it tended to gnaw at Prowl and consistently interrupt to the point of killing the mood, insisting that it not be left idle when work could be done. For the first couple of interfaces it left Jazz frustrated and Prowl in a mixed state of confusion and agitation.

After that Jazz asked Prowl had he used to overcome the problem for an overload, given Prowl’s admission about his previous “lover” (a label too strong for what the mech meant to Prowl). Prowl explained that by meeting the mech for an interface in a private room inside Iacon’s primary Theoretician’s Wing, tapped into the nearby super-computer and used it to keep his tac-set completely occupied elsewhere. The revelation made for some interesting images for Jazz on what a frag against a super-computer in a sort of “double” interface might entail.

Without the availability of a super-computer that either will willing to use for such reasons, since neither saw diverting any of _Teletraan_ as an option, Jazz sought out ways to overcome the challenge. He downloaded and modified pre-war strategy plans so that he could feed the "new" data to the tac-set, which was easily the strangest interfacing activity Jazz had ever done for a non-target. His plans involved slowly modifying the data to be less about corporate strategies and more Jazz-flavored, from entertainment to personal relationships, but for now it was too early to introduce those topics without a flat out rejection by the tac-set.

Jazz glided a finger around a hip strut and then dipped the fingertip into a seam to brush a sensor. "We've got the time, and my systems are running plenty hot. Just focus on feeling the moment and don’t resist any needs or reactions."

Prowl stifled the last half of his groan but failed at preventing his leg from automatically rotating away to free the seam. He pushed back against Jazz’s chassis; not hard enough to ruin Jazz’s mood but enough to make Jazz look him in the optics. "And what of you?” His hand tentatively brushed a chassis seam.

The visored mech caught the hand. "Don’t worry about me, Prowler. Like I said, my systems are running plenty hot. I don’t need help getting revved up. Might need the exact opposite, but I’ll take staying the same until you join me.”

Jazz rolled his whole body over Prowl's, using the fluid movement to kick his knee pillow off the berth and straddle Prowl. His free hand followed the movement by pushing Prowl up by his lower midback, arching Prowl’s chassis until it trapped their entwined hands in-between them. Without any perceivable stilting in his movements he used his knee and the elbow of the hand on Prowl’s back to move his other pillow until it stopped just below the space between Prowl's doorwings. He stopped long enough to give Prowl a seductive smirk and hand squeeze.

Prowl’s mouth opened slightly but Jazz refused him a chance to think through a response. The hand trapped between them pushed down on Prowl’s chassis, still holding the tactician’s hand in place, while Jazz’s other hand guided the doorwinger carefully onto the pillow. Jazz wanted his berthmate’s doorwings to be completely free so he could touch them from any direction. The back hand slipped along one doorwing’s backside while the other hand released Prowl’s to toy with the front panel of the other doorwing. Jazz wasn’t about to let that released hand of Prowl remain free, though, recapturing it with his mouth over the fingertips.

He didn't tell Prowl that the reason they had time was because he'd come out of interrupted recharge needing to make sure Prowl was still the mech he was steadily, hesitantly, becoming dependent upon for helping him end his demons sooner than when left on his own. Nor did he want to tell Prowl that a hardline might have problems _before_ the overload, as those demons were merely smaller and not gone.

Woven words of care were not wanted at all by the saboteur to purge those demons, but rather a hushed movement of the symphony he knew to play with the notes of personal tells. It started and often continued without sung words as Prowl kept those to himself or offered only a few across a hardline as if he feared saying anything so personal aloud might reveal. Jazz didn't need a lyrical piece to his symphony because the air was filled by the rising and falling crescendo mewling he heard and knew came at the touch of the doorwings; seeing the sharp back arches paired with light gasps as he rolled two digits along panel edges; feeling/hearing the small wing flutters fighting to stay calm at the mercy of his caress, and a moan both stuttered and stifled when he tasted the sweetened residue of spray cleaners that usually dried inside the neglected seams of Prowl’s form.

The cleaner dried inside those seams washed out easily enough during showers, but Prowl used the cleaner early into his shifts and often enough, so that taste was almost as much a part of Prowl as any other.  Jazz enjoyed knowing he was the only one who knew Prowl's hands and a few side seams were perpetually covered in dry cleaner residue, Prowl having become so accustomed to it he no longer noticed and medics rarely doing such detailed checks on a rifle-carrying tactician.

Jazz also enjoyed the sweet airy taste because it reminded him of festivals and energon artisan corners from before the war. That wasn’t by coincidence, but by design. Before their first interface but after some intimate fun Jazz noticed the dried texture and chemicals of standard cleaners on Prowl’s fingers, plus seams where aerosol blowback landed but the doorwinger couldn’t easily wash. The taste and smell wasn’t particularly pleasing, not to mention probably unsafe to risk accumulation inside fuel tanks, so Jazz gifted Prowl with a large supply of (fuel tank friendly) surface cleaners better than any available on base. The taste imbued into a piece of Prowl’s every-orn activities was Jazz’s secret mark on Prowl, to know that this was the Prowl he trusted and never an imposture, because only _his_ Prowl tasted like home.

His glossa slid around those fingers as his mouth applied pressure every time Prowl tried speaking. Jazz drew his body slowly down Prowl’s, Jazz's hands trailing from Prowl's doorwings and neck, with Prowl's hand still imprisoned by Jazz’s mouth. As he moved his glossa would randomly release the fingers and tease Prowl’s chassis just long enough for another upward swell in Prowl’s body.

The tactician wasn't ready to allow himself to be reduced to an unthinking mech, half out of his mind from Jazz’s ability to make interfacing with one mech feel like two. His other hand reached for an audial horn but his fingers nearly fumbled their grasp when Jazz slipped his glossa between two of Prowl’s fingers, running their full length and then receding back into that talented mouth by swirling along his chassis.

Prowl managed to recover before poking the horn, letting his touch brush against it like dancing cooled ribbons. He maximized the coolant flow inside both his hands, using the coolness to sensualize his touch to Jazz’s heated plating. His tac-set started pinging him with warning of wasteful increase in system power, but its attempts were overruled by Jazz’s leg slipping between his thighs. The leg grazed down the length of his, nudging it away until Jazz’s other leg could slip in and spread Prowl’s legs wide.

Jazz released Prowl’s hand when his glossa lapped the abdominal seam above Prowl’s interfacing equipment. Prowl tightened his core to pull himself off the pillow and keep his own touches to Jazz’s audial in contact. The hand christened with a new glistening finish traced Jazz’s check to the corner of his visor. Prowl cupped his hand and let the coolness permeate through the hot plating. His thumb traced up and down Jazz’s jawline, coaxing Jazz to relax.

Jazz’s hands moved back to the doorwings, returned to his reach by Prowl’s efforts to stay with him, playfully pinching the bottom edges. When he was rewarded with another deep moan Jazz let go and settled his grip on Prowl’s hip struts.

He tilted his helm to see Prowl’s flush faceplates and stopped his glossa ministrations to lick his own swollen lips. The pause barely lasted before he moved downward, his lips hovering over Prowl's spike cover until he passed completely over it and kissed the top of Prowl's valve cover. He spoke with as few words as possible, lessening the chance of Prowl getting caught up in his own head mulling over any possible meaning of Jazz's words, his voice far huskier than normal. "Can you handle my drive? 'Cause I got plenty of energy and I don't feel like taking a slow cruise."

The tac-set tried getting Prowl's attention to show him what spending so much energy to satisfy Jazz's high drive would do to his schedule, but Jazz caught the slip in Prowl's focus. On each hand he made a "hang ten" shape with his fingers and ran each pinky against the sides of Prowl's valve cover in opposite directions as his thumbs grazed Prowl's thighs in a counter motion.

That touch made him Jazz's again as he moaned with an involuntary pushed into Jazz's fingers. He released his loose hold on Jazz's face to use the hand behind him for support, but he used the other to keep rubbing the audial. He noted that his hands were no longer cool against Jazz's plating, his own systems needing to use the high coolant flow rate for its intended purpose.

"Good. Keep your spike in its housing," Jazz instructed. Prowl knew what was meant by the command. Jazz intended to use positions that favored having only one pressurized spike. Still, Prowl was not one to easily take commands and his engine gave a loud rev in some protest.

Jazz ignored the engine rev and took the lack of verbal protest or opening spike cover as acceptance. Tightening his grasp on Prowl's hips he pulled them forward, forcing Prowl's hips to roll forward and up so that the Praxian's covered valve was easier for his fingers and mouth to access.

The hand on Jazz's audial fell back to help catch Prowl from falling onto his doorwings when the other arm failed to be enough. Another engine rev of protest was heard and Jazz rewarded it with an open mouth kiss to the cover, ending it with his glossa treating a cover edge like closed lips needing to be opened.

Optics focused at the top of his visor, Jazz watched Prowl's helm fall backwards and his chassis heave with shaky control. His arms shivered as he tried regaining control, and Jazz hungrily watched it all, his want barely in check. His Prowl had trouble coping with intense sensations, just as much as he struggled with most emotions, but this came with a show and Jazz lusted after every twitch, every gasp, and every quiver from failed attempts to stop the whelm of combined intimate touches. Jazz's spike cover popped open and his spike pressurized at the loose cry from a softly shaking Prowl.

When Prowl's own valve cover released Jazz saw his arms nearly fold at the elbows when the air from Jazz's fans blew under the cover. "Lay down," Jazz advised before pressing his thumbs alongside the outside of the valve as he followed the cover into it receded position.

Prowl honestly tried to regain some composure once more but Jazz's persistence when the sneaky agent needed control was something Prowl hadn't yet learned to successfully counter. When Jazz followed up his next move with one thumb rubbing his anterior node and the other teasing his valve opening he lost and his upper half dropped back. He landed halfway on the pillow. His tac-set tried pushing up the alerts on a partly-pinned doorwing and increasing energy consumption, but he forced his weakened attention on Jazz.

Prowl's valve walls were lightly but completely lubricated by the time the cover snapped open, and the flood of desire pouring from Prowl put Jazz's control on edge to not drop Prowl's hips and take him right now. A taste of Prowl's valve would surely bring an end to his restraint so he allowed himself only use of his fingers. With the slow push of one finger, he thrust it until it moved smoothly in and out; then he added another and repeated until he had three fingers pumping without resistance.

He brought Prowl's hips down and dragged his body up Prowl's, keeping his own aft up to keep from penetrating. Prowl whimpered and pawed at the Polyhexian. Jazz leaned upward to capture the mech's mouth in an overheated kiss, and the Praxian returned the favor by clutching Jazz's arms. Prowl's fingertips moved in slow circles, easing his grip upward so he might sneak a hand to the facial seams just below Jazz's audial horn.

Jazz dropped back far enough to realign his spike with Prowl's valve and cautiously rocked forward. They both groaned and felt their arrays twitch from ending their extended streak of no interfacing. Jazz stopped when he was fully inside of Prowl to let his fans catch up. When Prowl's hands started playing with the sensitive plating just below his audial horns he knew it was time to continue on from relishing the moment or else he might overload far too early.

He moved slowly at first, dragging kisses along Prowl's collar and neck. Prowl's fingers chased his facial side plating and auidal horns. He could sense his own need of dominance and action pushing to do more, insisting to be let out from being caged when he had to cautiously work invisibly around the Decepticons. That need demanded he abandon sweet cares to change speed and position, but he remained steady. When he felt Prowl's calipers tensing he stopped and pulled out to deny a quick ending.

Prowl managed to keep his frustrated protest from vocalizing, knowing that Jazz was just getting started. The saboteur pulled his arms free and brought Prowl into a sitting position against his chassis. He reached behind the doorwings and grabbed the pillow, flipping it around so the tall side of the wedge faced them. He guided Prowl's shoulder into a twisting turn and uttered a single hoarse command, "Lay."

The stubborn leader in Prowl initially refused the command but Jazz's hand returned to his anterior node, rolling it and pushing down on its sides. When he gasped and arched again, Jazz used the opportunity to push his shoulder down onto the wedge. That hand released Prowl's shoulder and collected the doorwinger's hands to entwine them above Prowl's downward helm in a hold more innocent than Jazz's actions suggested.

When Prowl's body melted into the pillow Jazz let go of his anterior node and wrapped his arm around the area just below Prowl's waist. He held it taunt and used his knees to better open Prowl's, before centering his body and sliding into his partner. He leaned down and dragged his glossa up Prowl's back and grazed his dentae along a doorwing edge until he was almost up again. After he finished the first doorwing he reversed the order but grazed the opposite wing. Prowl shuddered and his calipers clenched until Jazz finished teasing the wings.

Jazz started thrusting again into the warm valve, his pace rhythmically increasing until he felt a coil below his tanks and a growing tightness inside Prowl. Once more he slowed down until he stopped to deny them another end.

When Prowl realized what Jazz was doing he almost snapped at another denied overload. Jazz could bring a mech to the brink of an overload and deny them only to continuously repeat the cycle over and over again, getting targets so strung out on needing that overload that they'd babble almost any secrets to finish. Sometimes Jazz would take so long, drive them almost mad just to make hardline hacking easier, letting him take or deliver many things. There was a certain ruthless efficiency using that method instead of establishing cover roles, and Prowl could admire that most of the time. Now wasn't a time for appreciation for ruthless interfacing tactics.

Prowl knew none of Jazz's current intentions were cruel because Jazz had done this before to him, explaining that he didn't want the interface to be quick or energon-goodie-cutter. Jazz preferred crafting each experience, with peaks and breaks timed carefully before parts started getting raw. Given the decrease in new valve lubricant, that meant the next position Jazz had in mind would be the final position and so Prowl bite back his complaint to not further delay their overloads.

Jazz was close to giving into all but that final piece of domination waiting to be released. He stayed inside Prowl but used his hands to bring Prowl into an upward kneeling position. "Against the wall," he directed with a soft tug of hands to show he meant the berth wall. One slow thrust was offered as a promise before Jazz pulled out.

That stubborn side of Prowl wanted to resist but the remainder of him didn't even care if Jazz wanted to paint Prowl's doorwings as butterfly wings so long as it ended soon with an overload. His knees moved to the wall but he stopped short when his tac-set started bombarding him with numbers and simulations of what may happen to the dynamic between Jazz and him if he gave in so easily. Not to mention its complaints over his energy reserves lessening instead of recharging.

Jazz saw the distant look in Prowl's optics, caused by another internal struggle of not letting the moment become lost in a haze of conflicting data, and knew the tac-set was creating problems again. His own needs were put aside and he dropped his arms down to hug Prowl close, carefully pulling him onto his lap and avoiding his taunt spike. He'd dealt with that tac-set enough to have an idea what was its fuss. Nuzzling the side of Prowl's face with his own, Jazz asked, "Do you want to pick the next position?"

Prowl rested his helm back on Jazz's shoulder, not paying much attention to how that put half of his chevron within nibbling range of Jazz. To his credit, Jazz resisted the temptation.

The tac-set said one thing, his body said another, and the rest of the confusion was the mess he refused to acknowledge as emotional... whatever. Entanglements. New definitions of "conflict of interest," between the once-lonely mech and the workaholic Autobot SIC.

Jazz started rubbing Prowl's arms and Prowl focused on the feel. A smoldering digit riding along his own searing armor; a touch lingering meant to ease his worries and fast-pulsing spark; a spark near an engine working hard enough to start burning oil if the excess energy wasn't dispelled.

Placing his fingers over Jazz's hand, Prowl looked into his visor. Perhaps he couldn't see Jazz's optics, but somewhere in that emotion heap he knew this wasn't some embroiled fight for respect. "Go ahead and frag me into the wall, just as you intended," he replied, deliberately using words to excite his partner and snub the tac-set.

Jazz grinned and rewarded the words with a suckle on Prowl's chevron and a roll of Jazz's hips to rub his spike alongside Prowl's valve opening and anterior node. Adding his hands into the mix to tease armor seams and doorwing sensors until the mech in his lap returned to the moaning and withering partner Jazz wanted to overload every orn.

Guiding Prowl up, Jazz freed his lap and pressed himself against Prowl until the tactician's forehelm met wall. That domination was back and while teasing Prowl's neck with his mouth again, Jazz carefully moved Prowl's arms around until they were folded up behind Prowl's back and between his raised doorwings. Efforts went into taking the time to make sure there wouldn't be any awkward stretching, rotating, or stressing on any joint strut.

Satisfied with the lack of discomfort for Prowl, Jazz leaned forward so his body weight held the arms in place, his shoulders pushing the doorwings up and wide. One arm moved to wrap around Prowl's lower chassis and the other wrapped around Prowl's hips. The bottom arm pulled Prowl's hips into a tilt, keeping him close to the wall but with enough of an angle for Jazz to thrust deep and rub any valve sensors somehow not touched.

Jazz held the tip of his spike just below Prowl's valve. "Ready?" he groaned, feeling the heat and lubricate roll down onto his spike.

"Ready," Prowl returned with a moan equally as eager.

Jazz pushed in deep and with Prowl's approving gasp he let go all of what he needed for the last few deca-orns. His thrusts were hard, deep, and fast. His arms held Prowl tight so those doorwings would quiver into his frame. Prowl's doorwings rarely moved in any deliberate fashion, and any non-deliberate movements were quite muted as a countermeasure to keep observing Seekers ignorant. These were the only times Prowl's wings really moved and so Jazz enjoyed them. His helm dropped onto the nap of Prowl's neck to feel the breeze from the doorwings, pushing Prowl's helm further forward and almost driving his chevron into the wall. Neither mech really noticed.

Jazz felt the clenching calipers almost locking him in place, and he felt that coil inside of him grow until it released his transfluid, striking Prowl's ceiling node. The crackling heat and overload energy from the transfluid in combination of the new friction created between a pumping spike and his tightly clamped calipers triggered Prowl's mind-emptying (and tac-set shutting up) overload. Jazz squeezed him closer and what little of Prowl's mind managed to remain coherent felt the deep pulse in his spark.

The pair relished the overload aftermath, neither deliberately moving until Jazz's finely-tuned sense of balance detected a sideways slump beginning to bring them down. "Mph!" he yelped into Prowl's neck and twisted them around so the half blacked out Prowl wouldn't smack his helm or a doorwing. Jazz held Prowl in place, waiting for his partner to regain control of his appendages while also allowing his own systems to pull in as much air and cycle as much coolant as possible.

A little under a breem later their systems were both cool enough that Prowl more-or-less moved to untwist his body. "You're still in me," he murmured after opting to lie on top of Jazz instead.

"Ah-huh. I'll move when you move."

"... I don't feel like moving." Efforts in moving resulted in perhaps the lamest maybe-flop Jazz had ever seen.

Jazz pretended to huff in annoyance. "Fine, I guess I'll keep doing all the hard work." He wriggled around under Prowl until his half-depressurized spike was free. "Dunno about you, but I'm ready to finish recharge."

"Indeed, a much needed requirement for me as well."

"In this spot, aka sprawled on top of me?" Jazz was surprised at Prowl's completely absent protest at this much cuddling.

Prowl moved his helm as little as possible to look Jazz in the visor. "I'm good if you're good."

A soft smile returned to Jazz's face and he wrapped one ankle strut around Prowl's closest ankle strut. "I'm good. Just didn't think you changed your mind about so much touching outside of interfacing."

Prowl watched Jazz's visor dim, feeling his own systems shut down as well. "I'm glad you're back," he finally answered after seeing Jazz's real smile return.

When Jazz's visor was offline and his own vision almost completely dark, Prowl mumbled the last words still on his mind."I suppose having to wait to hear if you were safe or captured by those 'Cons had some unexpected effect on me."

|||||

Prowl roused first, persistent internal schedule alerts going off like an evacuation drill pulling him out of an incomplete recharge. He read only the first few before dismissing them all, realizing he was very low on time before his shift started. Jazz was still wrapped around Prowl even after tilting onto his side. Prowl squirmed and flexed his doorwings, trying to push the sound recharger’s limbs away. His efforts received a groan and a follow-on reward of Jazz squeezing him tighter.

Prowl kept his voice low but firm to get his captor’s attention. “Jazz.”

Jazz onlined some to his name but didn’t want to bother finish his bootup sequence. “I’m calling in sick.”

“That’s for you, Prime, and a medic to sort out. I need you to let me go.”

“Can’t. You’re sick so you have to stay here.”

“Let go or I’ll command _Teletraan_ to override the ban list to play something from ‘Most Hated Songs on Base’ over your speakers. Perhaps ‘This is the Song that Never Ends’.”

Jazz’s limbs flew away and smacked the berth flat. “You wouldn’t dare violate your own ban.”

Prowl climbed off of Jazz and off the berth. “Are you going to tell on me? Are you willing to give up your secrets to report me for such?”

“Abuse, man. That’s totally abuse of power. I’ll submit an anonymous report about your dirty tricks,” Jazz grinned and flipped over so he could watch Prowl examine his unclean armor. ‘ _Such dirty tricks,_ ’ he lewdly tacked on.

Prowl’s nose crinkled as he created a task list for cleaning up in Jazz’s private washracks. “That’s quite the challenge you’re setting up for yourself. Any officer would recognize your written linguistic style, name attached or not. When we get called into Prime’s office to explain be sure to have your story well-rehearsed.”

“Puh- _lease_. All my scheduled lies are well-rehearsed and I’ve long mastered improv. Spec Ops got the rhythm, moves, and tunes down for dancing our way outta trouble.”

“ _Riiiight_. Well, I’m going to use your washracks and head straight to my office.”

Jazz purred, “Need – ”

“No.”

“ – Help?”

Prowl looked Jazz over, ignoring his own retort to Jazz’s attempted satisfaction for this particular type of post-mission libido, favoring instead to re-analyze Jazz. From his discrete data-gathering efforts on the mech, the Praxian understood there were some missions with an aftereffect on the Polyhexian resulting in a high repeatability cycle of _mission- interface- interface again_. His longest lasting hypothesis about the root cause behind the behavior had something to do with Jazz reaffirming his body, mind, and life were still intact; however, since Prowl had yet to figure out how to breech the subject, he continued to observe until he was better certain about his theories and how to present them.

For now he tried to be as flexible as his own schedule allowed to meet Jazz’s key needs from him, or those that couldn’t be met by Jazz’s friends. Prowl’s schedule was often more rigid, domineering, and unyielding than his own stance on soldiers sharing drinks after possible enemy activity detected, but if Prowl could calculate 800 moving objects’ trajectories in under a split-klik, finding solutions to move a joor’s work around once in a while couldn’t be proclaimed as infeasible.

For the several times his tac-set complained about Jazz, he thought of Jazz’s confession that part of what made Prowl uniquely special to him. Within Jazz's many contacts, the saboteur saw Prowl possibly as the only one with who would ( _and could)_ listen without judgment/fear over what dark choices and memories weighing Jazz down, or brought him out of recharge in a violent terror; he could grasp the mental struggle of what living with a “sabotage/kill list tucked away in one stained hand, party favors shopping list pristinely displayed to all in the other” could do to a mech.

Granted, Prowl never once had to shop for party favors, and for what _emotional_ struggles laid behind Jazz’s woes were of a near-completely different variety than Prowl’s, but the tactician wasn’t without anything of comparable value in his own personal responsibilities.

Even if that wasn’t true, if he truly had no way of grasping Jazz’s troubles of integrating his halves of the morale-keeper and the Special Ops leader, that wasn’t what was important. What mattered was the fact he could listen to Jazz’s horrors and troubles, including the long unrecorded list of those never be acknowledged outside the most information-secured of rooms, without being negatively affected in some matter. Even more important was Prowl's successful ease at remaining calm during Jazz's two bewildered attacks in the last mega-orns. He even diffused the last one, and if what information Prowl already knew was accurate, there'd likely be more to come after the latest mission's wear disappeared. To Prowl that was important, being able to support someone beyond his desk, and so he resolved to find some way to spend the next several recharge cycles with Jazz.

He examined Jazz’s lax body, the soft hues and luminosity of Jazz’s visor, the coy small smile, and the slight wrinkles beneath the visor suggesting Jazz’s optics were still strained. “Get some recharge. I’ll make adjustments to the schedule to show a half-shift for you. Do you want me to leave on all of your security measures?”

“I’ll turn 'em off. You go ahead and get cleaned up.” He won against the impulse to say he still needed Prowl to guard him while he recharged. It was time to resist his problems taking hold. Didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy watching the Praxian’s efforts to cross the room with precise steps around the mice investigating him, though. Jazz detected the minute twitches in Prowl’s doorwings as the grids interrogated his systems. When Prowl made it into the washrack Jazz reached for the hidden wall pocket by his berth.

Prowl adjusted the washrack setting to his preferences. When it was ready he used up almost all of his remaining free time to scrub, clean, and buffer his armor until he met his own standards for acceptable SIC appearance – not too polished to imply he neglected his duties, not too abandoned to suggest he couldn’t maintain a balance between duty and wellbeing.

The time it took for him to wash until satisfied and walk out was evidently enough time for Jazz to doze off. He opted to not risk startling the mech and made for the main door. On his way out Prowl slowed as he considered his datapad stack. All but the top datapad were devoid of any stored data. He weighed the options of taking all or most of them until he decided on taking half. He was never short of datapads and leaving some here could be useful later.

Prowl carefully gathered that half in one arm and held the one with actual value in the other hand. Almost immediately when he cleared the doorway his mind snapped back to resume reading the datapad, dismissing the automatic pings from his tac-set for it to also resume activity. Walking the halls usually had someone grabbing his attention and his tac-set was never happy about the disruption. The tac-set was also not happy with Prowl’s refusal to hardline into a datapad when moving about common areas, but no amount of alerts would override the lessons he learned about dividing his attention between busy hardlines and while moving his frame about mazes, filled with other disorderly frames. Especially after that time he walked into Springer despite Kup’s warning and Whirl’s witnessing. An angry Springer, a smug Kup, and mockingly hooting Whirl was an unpleasant experience, to put it politely.

The tactician kept his optics focused on his datapad as he used his doorwings to assist him in navigating around mechs milling about in the low-traffic hallways, navigating with his optics only when traffic increased or his sensors detected an energetic individual nearing proximity to his frame. One hallway turn short of his office his audios and doorwing sensors picked up First Aid’s voice.

“Prowl,” the freshly off-duty mech called.

Prowl turned around and glanced at the medic. “Hello, First Aid. What brings you here? I'd have assumed you to be in the midst of some sort of recreational activity by now.”

The medic’s optics gleamed brighter, the outer corners turning outward. “I’m just here for some follow up, but that’s nice of you to ask.”

‘ _More like the nice way to point out you shouldn’t be here,_ ’ Prowl silently corrected.

In the last 7 mega-orns First Aid had become a bit... of an overly involved medic (in Prowl’s opinion) about how Prowl was handling his recovery. Twice Prowl caught him saying to others in the know about Prowl's true health threat that Aid was merely advocating on behalf of Prowl over the hope of finding a new balance in life. It made Prowl’s innermost chassis workings twitch and tighten uncomfortably over what he could only describe as an unwanted attention over some invisible goals other set for him.

His relationship with First Aid was indeed complicated, but then his relationship with Ratchet was far more complex and coupled with bouts of new tension, which was probably half the reason Aid called himself an advocate of Prowl. At least First Aid hardly bothered him with extra questions and check-ins than medically reasonable.

Aid continued speaking to the mech without aware of Prowl’s opinion, “How are you doing?”

“I’m much the same as your last check-in comm.” He wasn’t concerned about the possibility of his night or morning’s activities being detected by First Aid or any other authorized mech via spark sensors. In the beginning First Aid, Ratchet, and the few others with the clearance-level checked in on him and the excessive number of spark sensor readings up to thrice daily. After a lack of reading interest in Prowl's behavior, Wheeljack finally removed two-thirds of them and placed them in spares. There were still plenty of spark sensors for them to know his spark too well to his liking, but with the cover stories Jazz and he cultivated, combined with a diminishing worry over his health and Aid’s advocating, little was checked or questioned anymore.

“I figured,” First Aid replied, “but Ratchet asked me to take a report to Red for him and check in on you again, should I see you. He mentioned you seemed agitated when you confronted Jazz in his quarters.”

“I was hardly _agitated_. I was simply firm in my demand.” Prowl noticed First Aid’s empty hands, leaving open the chance Aid was waiting around for him.

First Aid shrugged. “I’m just repeating Ratchet’s words. So shall I pass that on, or do you have anything you’d like me to add?”

“I shall see Ratchet at the scheduled time for my routine check.” In the spirit of his complex relationship with Ratchet, his repeated dealings with Ratchet suggested routine checks, minor damages (like a dented ped), and administrative tasks returned to a more-or-less normal state. He had no injuries exceeding minor damages for comparisons, but Ratchet transferred all spark-related work to the others a little before Jack pulled out the extra sensors. Aid claimed it was to keep everyone fresh on understanding spark health and because the CMO didn’t have time for nonessential daily checks. If spending countless vorns working with Special Ops and now in secret relationship with the Head of XOps taught Prowl anything, it was how to spot lies.

“Alright, will do. Oh, how is Jazz? His systems were exhausted when he came back from the mission. I cleared him on the expectation he go straight to his quarters for rest.”

“He mostly had ‘catnaps’, and we worked when he was awake. He should be recharging now, but he’s expected to be on duty for the last half of shift.”

“Thanks, I’ll ask Perceptor to comm-check in on him around then. Take care,” he said in a bid goodbye.

Prowl entered his office, immediately restocking his spares inside the recessed wall storage. When he sat down at his main _Teletraan_ terminal he smoothly plugged the datapad directly into the terminal in a well-practice motion. Underneath the desk and below the terminal, in place where neither infiltrating enemy nor punished troublemakers would detect, Prowl connected an upper-thigh hardline to a hidden terminal access point. The location was very atypical, but he could stand without interference or restriction.

When the connection secured his tac-set automatically whirled to full activity, eager to work upon and satisfy its aggressive computational AI nature after a lengthy downtime. He auto-requested a piece of his startup routine to his tac-set, [[What is my unassessed or incomplete report count since my previous shift's end? Organize by priority.]]

It replied in its routine fashion, [[User initiate action, query-type command. User query parameter: filter active reports with last saved assigned personnel name containing 'Prowl' or user roles applied to User Prowl; count reports with last saved status not equal to 'cancelled', 'returned', 'closed', or 'completed'; group count by last saved priority type. User query type: integer return. Activate _Teletraan_ database ‘all outstanding filed reports with completed intake assessments’.

[[Activate subroutine, name defined as 'db_results_int_09843'. Active subroutine: Filter active database to list only report entries assigned to 'Prowl', 'Autobot Second-in-Command,' or 'Head of Tactical Department'. Subroutine paused. Action to User Prowl: Clarify if Prowl wants database items assigned to commanding officers but not specific officers?]]

Prowl deflated a little when the tac-set paused already after only 0.0002 kliks. The incoming workload had skyrocketed for various reasons, and one of the biggest causes was lower officers suddenly finding themselves promoted to senior officer levels, and so on until strapped bases with untrained officers were sending blanket and incorrectly filed reports. Usually the seconds of each commanding officer’s department addressed such issues, but being on Earth had given them a new opportunity that Optimus Prime wanted seized. As such, everyone was extremely busy and Prowl was not one to risk any oversight. Sometimes he took on the responsibility to reassign, but often it actually fell to Ironhide since his vast experiences gave him plenty of insight of reassigning work.

Alas, for Prowl, the reason Ironhide had guests over was because it was the start of his 3 shift rotations off. [[Yes, include them as well. Keep them separated since the workload is still jointly shared with Ironhide. Don’t rank by priority, except for the top 4 priority levels.]] Prowl silently added his gripe, ‘ _They’re usually the wrong priority classifications anyways._ ’ [[He’s still expected to have his scheduled full break, so assume yes until then.]]

[[AI initiated action to User Prowl: action return confirmed, parameters set to separate generalized command officer count from those assigned to User Prowl. Action to User Prowl: complete, zero error returns. Active subroutine resumed.

[[Activate child function, name defined as ‘db_seek_str_00255’: Seeking active database entries that fit query parameters… seeking… Function ‘db_seek_str_00255’ status: complete, no error returns. Activate child function, name defined as 'results_group_str_01001': Count and store count by priority type... conditional counting of sibling 'db_seek_str_00255' return... Function 'results_group_str_01001' status: complete, no error returns. New child function, name defined as ‘results_group_str_78302’: Count and store count by priority tier type… status: complete, no error returns.

[[Subroutine 'db_results_int_09843' return: Tier 1: 1 enemy-activity priorities, 0 life-threatening, 0 imminent-danger, 0 non-combat emergency; Tier 2: 1 critical, 1 elevated, 4 high; Tier 3: 87 normal, 119 low priorities. Eighty-six unassigned reports for command officers, zero reports with a Tier 1 priority. Subroutine 'db_results_int_09843' status: complete, no error returns.

[[Status of User Prowl query: complete, 0.0002% error probability in parsing user string query for data compiling. Tac-set status: active, at risk of idle performance, zero current reported error codes or conditions.]]

The entire coded output communication after the pause was less than a split-klik but Prowl understood it all as if it were normal conversation. The tac-set’s power relays, memory, drivers, its constant self-made improvements, and Prowl’s ability to communicate with it at low-level all streamlined the process into split-klik communications. The AI didn’t see fit to speak to Prowl at a higher level like how _Teletraan_ communicated to its users, because preservation of operation efficiencies were all that mattered; it wasn’t conducive to cold computational efficiencies on converting its operations output to a normal user communication style.

Prowl had no problem with “conversing” with the AI in such a manner, although it did make him wince a fraction when the new function’s name was almost up to 6 digits. The implication was he had just that many text-based database searches used often enough that the AI determined them worth storing. These were searched that had similar purposes but were distinctly different enough they couldn't be reused.

Jazz, his brothers, the remaining command officers, and more thought the only way for Prowl to understand his workload size predicament was for _them_ to tell _him_. Prowl never needed their comments despite how it looked, because his tac-set being forced to save nearly a 100,000 database searches for such menial tasks, followed by an absurd number of reports supposedly only _he_ could approve/disapprove, spoke more volumes than any mech could raise. Those details were always getting worse to some degree, too, due to the slow destabilizing intelligence/administrative reporting from millenniums-long war.

Almost three quarters of the reports he ended up downgrading their priorities read like an overstressed and undertrained officer losing their mind at another base. At least he could delegate to his own galactic-dispersed tactical officers to find the most readily-available options to replace the ill-suited officer, although that required him generating a new report and then doing his own analysis on someone else’s analysis of what he created. ‘ _Logic succumbing to incoherent mass madness,_ ’ he vexed.

The AI suddenly responded to Prowl's "private" concerns without prompting, [[New AI initiated action, recommended-course-of-action type. Primary action outcome results: provide strategic recommendation to User Prowl for reconstructing system into logical structure at a sustainable rate. Performing full-system assessment. Battle computer building data package … packaging… sending package data and analysis results to simulator… simulating… battle computer analyzing and repackaging simulation results for logic center… sending updated data packaging to logic center… analyzing… logic center sending corrected data packaging to battle computer for error assessment. No errors returned. Battle computer perform another full iteration of data review to reduce variables… iteration loop one… iteration loop two… battle computer confirms results with acceptable margin of error.

[[AI Barricade recommendation over course of action: Seek status change histories on elevated and critical reports. Historical trends strongly show to disregard these 2 high priority items until Officer Ironhide returns, and re-evaluate these 2 high priority items.]] The AI laid out a thorough schedule, current and forecasted workload, the most efficient attack plan for workload reduction with minimal-to-no operations impact. Each part was laid over the next like a map. As it was navigating Prowl through its complex strategy, highlighting reports as it went (i.e. the high priorities it recommended ignoring despite standard command procedures), the AI automatically started downloading updates from _Teletraan_ in the order it recommended - without waiting for Prowl's concurrence.

At the end of the beautifully-constructed strategy review that probably only Prowl would feel his spinal strut unwinding, he was torn between letting the AI violate his rules in its efforts to proactively soothe his worries, or put his ped down. He noticed the growing tendency of it not waiting for order confirmation like it did in all the time before his latest and closest spark death. Since that near-death the tac-set AI had randomly acted without any orders, but at least it was so far contained to times when internal arguments or unexpected AI intrusions couldn't cause more than a personal helmache. There were also the other random incidences of the AI using its self-given name "Barricade" when providing recommendations.

In the end he chose neither praise nor reprimand for extra initiative, and ignored the name popping up again. [[Acknowledged.]]

After checking all details related to the high priority items the AI wanted first evaluated in case they ought to have their priority levels raised, Prowl confirmed nothing more could be done until Prime got to that data. _'Perhaps I should verify that Prime will be finalizing his portion of these reports before he ends his shift. I doubt the Wreckers will wait much longer, regardless if they can or not.'_

 [[New AI initiated action, recommended-course-of-action type. Primary action – ]]

[[Abort action. I don’t need to know the statistical chances that Prime provided complete data, or how to modify his environment to better advise him on his workload.]] The SIC disrupted the tac-set, knowing which of the hundreds of subject-related subroutines it favored when considering Prime and workflow.

Again he thought of correcting the AI, having now done this new "order jumping the gun" twice in less than a joor, but he decided on not dwelling on the minor annoyance; it didn’t impacted his performance at the speed they communicated.

The tactician moved on to Jazz's latest report, currently the only one classified as enemy activity and assigned to him. Prowl knew more related reports would come from Jazz's department, and probably others, but Jazz had to first do his part of assessing the reports.

So for the moment, until those reports were partly or wholly assigned to him, things fell back into order. The Praxian read Jazz's report and heard the constant chattering "whispers" of the AI hard at work once the hardline was established and firewalls bypassed. Every few sentences Prowl had to do a double-read because Jazz's reporting skills had been improving exponentially of late, and this one was leaps beyond any of its predecessors.

The chattering whispers stopped and a clear voice forced itself to the forefront of his mind. [[AI initiated query to User Prowl: Delay current scheduled shift's end, add shift, start new shift, or adjust other workloads to offset increased memory consumption over Officer Jazz's raw data findings? All breaks have already been scheduled as working breaks, prior to newest report intake. Officer Jazz's 128% increase in detailed data reporting was not forecasted and will require at least 2 joors to fully analyze and provide all possible outcomes with statistically likelihoods.]]

[[Maximize my schedule between now and Jazz's estimated arrival for debriefing, with a focus in completing as much of the workload pile as possible. Wait until after Jazz's responses to determine afternoon schedule and any following shifts.]]

When Prowl finished his portion of Jazz's report the tac-set redistributed its memory for dual analysis. While it continued with Jazz's impressive data collection (that was possibly giving him spark flutters), Prowl speedily read through reports stored on datapads instead of in _Teletraan_ , for whatever reasons required the reports be kept separate.

A half joor before Jazz's tentative arrival the AI grabbed at Prowl's attention again. [[AI initiated query to User Prowl: Allow recommendation based on Prowl's efficiency trends, current performance, and historical trends of office hour disruptions by Officer Jazz?]]

[[Just the efficiency-related calculations for myself and allocate 10% buffer in schedule for Jazz.]] ' _I suspect the events surrounding our last recharge will somehow find a way to surface during the debriefing. I..._ ' Prowl faltered, not sure what to make about that spark flickers and other feelings.

The AI processed his response before Prowl could further contemplate last recharge. [[Status of AI initiated query: Complete, zero current reported error codes or conditions. Query result summary: Barricade’s recommended schedule for initial parameters set by Prowl is activated. Barricade will also establish prompts for Prowl's progress based on active schedule, and adjust accordingly for Prowl’s performance and any interruptions, or if Jazz's departure is delayed.]]

For a moment Prowl mulled over "Barricade's" summary, both in its unprompted actions and it now dropping role titles, like "User" and "Officer." Still, nothing in that summary was harmful or disruptive to the Autobots, so he set aside his musing for starting on the next report.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-Standard English Communication Indicators:  
> ::Words:: = Commlink  
> [[Words]] = Tac-set communication, between Prowl & the AI  
> «Word» = Hardline (between mechs)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger Warnings:** None. For Arc #1 this defaults to “none” unless something is actually stated. 
> 
> BTW, so far Arc #1 has no name, but Arc #2 has 2 names. Those will be for later reveal, but one was supplied by Every1s_Beta, although for a related but different purpose.

After completing 2 of the 4 high-priority reports, Prowl worked on clearing out his queue of several rated normal priority. When it neared time for Jazz to start his shift he pulled up the critical report that he suspected was tied to Jazz’s. He looked it over, trying to not think too much about it and let the tac-set work on discarding the tactically-useless notes often scattered inside Wrecker reports. They were especially present when written by Kup or Springer, the former getting caught up in linking everything to an “I remember this one time when…” story and the latter’s bluntly opinionated mission notes. This report also kept causing an unpleasant roll in his energon tanks every time he picked it back up because they both co-wrote it.

Their non-essential additions weren’t entirely without benefit, but he preferred a substantially more objective approach to linking battles old and new, or consolidating the annotated “lessons learned” information to a final list. The rest of it sometimes ended with a helmache as he felt the occasional emotion seep past his emotion filters. Emotions not identified on the “happiness” spectrum.

He checked _Teletraan_ and found that Optimus had started updating his portion of the Wrecker's report but hadn’t yet released it for another's view. ::Prime, do you have a klik?::

::A klik, but not a breem,:: Optimus replied. ::The meeting is still ongoing, but the current topic does not require immediate input from me.::

‘ _Ah, another delay in the bureaucratic needs across the nations?_ ’ he pondered. They were wrapping up some activities with NATO on legal standings, while leveling out the bumpy roads of resource purchasing and allocating.

That wasn’t a question for a quick comm-exchange. ::Yes, of course I’ll keep this short. Regarding report WRKR-2010, I saw you had started working on it but hadn’t released it yet. Is it something I require for my portion of the report analysis?::

For almost the rest of the klik there wasn’t any response. Then, :: _Teletraan_ ’s been updated.::

::Thank you. Do you require any support or supplemental materials from me? I can also have someone bring you energon.:: Ever since Prowl’s “selfishly unethical actions” caused “egregious security vulnerabilities” that a less compassionate Prime would’ve listed as cause for dismissal, Prowl tried being extra courteous. Granted, Prime didn't specifically express those exact words as his own, but some of the officers said them to Prime and the words eventually made their way back to him.

The first time he made an offer to help Prime beyond his usual responsibilities had Red Alert panicked that Prowl came back from the near-dead wrong. The second time had the Twins so perturbed they called him a “creepy ghoul” and retreated. Most might find it insulting but Prowl saw the strategic advantage in that reaction. When Prowl didn’t have time to waste on disruptions during prep time for Jazz’s training mission, he was exceedingly kind to Prime in front of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. It had the effect he wanted and lasted just long enough.

::If I don’t come out in two more joors, please send either Mirage or Bumblebee. Their stealth should keep them from accidently inviting more questions.::

::So noted.:: Prowl closed the line and shifted his attention back to _Teletraan_.

Prowl read through Prime's response regarding the Wrecker's report, which was mostly related to what Autobot General Army plans he will be implementing and how he wanted Prowl to structure his own plans to meet his intentions. The Wreckers sent one report, although it was more like two they consolidated into one despite regulations. Springer's decision, probably. The report contained information on their current efforts and requesting tactical input, while also requesting new Wreckers additions. Their last battle had permanently deactivated a few teammates, bringing their small numbers lower than the minimum mission critical count.

Due to the leap in quantity for base rotation requests, Prowl required Prime to provide him the information on what he expected for the different fronts so he could look over how his plans might relate to using or staffing the Wreckers. Prowl reviewed the information while keeping Jazz's report in mind. He wasn't certain if Prime had seen the few similarities in the Decepticon activities between Jazz's mission and the Wrecker's report. From the looks of it he hadn't, but then that's what Prime had a Head Tactician, and why Prowl would be running the debrief meeting for Jazz's mission.

He stopped his analysis when he knew Jazz would be starting his half-shift. Nonetheless, he still confirmed. ::Jazz, will you be reporting for duty soon or are you going through with your plans to skip it?::

::Nah, got the a-okay from Percy so I'm all good. Didn't see a reason to fake anything since I haven’t my nappin' friend available. Need me?::

::If you would please. I have questions about your report.::

::Well _yeah_. Can't say it went according to our initial plans, and I know we used some unorthodox means and all. Has the officer meeting for full debrief been scheduled yet?::

::Tentatively. Besides the actual mission changes and observations, I suspect you and I need to review a few related important details first to properly build a debrief meeting agenda.::

Even over the commlink Jazz groaned. ::Anything I should already be mentally preparing myself for?::

::I suspect it links to WRKR-2010.::

::Which one is that again?::

::The most recent report from Springer and Kup.::

::Oh yeah! I liked Kup's little stories in that one. Ya know, if you read them in the right voice they can be fun. Granted, you got to know when to skim and when to dive in, but Kup's been writing reports the same way for so long that it's easy to figure out how he writes.::

Prowl stifled his own groan. ::I suppose. I’ll take that under advisement, but it’s not what I’m questioning.::

::I never care much for Springer's writing, though,:: Jazz continued. ::The guy's reports read like he's got some disdain for what I do, being in the shadows when his team is more about beating your door down. And you can totally tell he's size-bias when it comes to fights.::

This time Prowl allowed the groan to be vocalized. ::Jazz, if we may move back on to topic?::

::Right, right, right. Let me just swing through the Rec Room for my normal morale checks and I'll be there. Rec Room's helm count is probably low right now, with everyone either on-duty, volunteering, or recharging. I can't believe we waited this long for construction work.::

::Jazz.::

::I _can_ walk and talk, ya know.::

::I'm well aware of your gift of multitasking. Now, if we may...::

::This isn't multitasking,:: Jazz interrupted. ::I do know multitasking, and I know the difference between multitasking and doing a task while your processor runs scripts for the regular stuff. Like how normal walking has its own script so I can focus all I want on talking. Even while chewing on a tough energon goodie and seeing if I can blow bubbles from the more-elastic gelled surfaces.::

::Jazz.:: The chattery side of Jazz after a mission wasn’t unusual. Having spent more private time with the mech, Prowl noticed the talkativeness was as much as 38% higher when following some stressors. Prowl was still building a reference frame for what stressors had an effect and which didn't phase the saboteur one bit. There two largest increases were also followed by a bad recharge that orn. From that limited correlation data, Prowl suspected that Jazz's recharge after Prowl left wasn't restful. A question to be asked during off-duty conversations.

::It's important to Special Ops to know what can be scripted so it doesn't require your active attention. You ought to know, between tact-activities and why we had that training.::

::JAZZ!:: That chattiness didn’t mean he’d allow endless patience for it, especially during duty. Even Bluestreak didn’t get endless patience.

::Alright, alright, sheesh. Cranky, aren't you? Maybe next time you'll stay in the berth with me and finish recharge. You get a full recharge, I get one less interruption.::

 _'So that's your plan_ ,' Prowl belatedly realized. ::I have work, and if I start my shift late then I'll leave late, and I'll have to shorten my orn to be on time for my next shift. That likely means I'll require recharge of the solitary kind.:: He had no intention of recharging alone, but Jazz didn't need to know.

::Funny. I’d say ‘let’s see you try’ but knowing you, you’d follow through just to prove me wrong and call it a lesson. I’m assuming you haven’t broken away from work for energon so I’ll include a cube for you. See you soon.::

Prowl didn't respond, declining Jazz the opportunity in continuing the conversation. He checked the time and _Teletraan_ for Optimus's location. Upon seeing that it hadn't change, he sent a message to Bumblebee to get Prime energon, attaching Prime's request.

Prowl worked a little longer on the comparison analysis until he heard Jazz's rhythmic knock. He was in the middle of disconnecting his focus from the hardline when Jazz walked into the room. Luckily, Prowl had long mastered the look of awareness despite having limited external input feeds.

"Alright," Jazz started as he sauntered to a guest chair, "what's this about me having something in common with Springer's group?" He slide the cube across the desk and settled into the chair.

"Yes," Prowl began once he was reengaged with the real world, "you mentioned that it looks like the Decepticons are preparing for something related to new intelligence from a non-Earth source. In regards to another set of battle fronts."

Jazz shrugged and then folded his arms asymmetrically across his torso. "Yeah. That's all in there. I took extra good notes. Right?" There was a bit of hesitation in the last word.

"It is," Prowl agreed. "You've excelled throughout your recent reports."

Jazz's small smile doubled and he nodded, before settling against the chair's back, loosely crossing his ankles and easing his crossed arms. "Good. So what do you need from me?"

"I'd like to go through the Wrecker report with you and see what catches your attention as a possible connection to your own report. I believe I've marked all incidents of potential overlap, but it would be best to get that from you. That’s what I'll include in the meeting agenda for your debrief."

"Sounds like a plan. So when's it tentatively scheduled?"

"My calculations and trend analysis over your observations gives us over 98% confidence that we’ll have at least a two deca-orns before they’ll near final stages of any schemes. Given the return state of your team’s affairs, I thought tomorrow would be best, a little after mid-shift. That gives us time to talk, and for you to confirm Mirage and Bumblebee have finished their reports.”

"Alright, I got time to talk. There's nothing else absolutely totally needing my attention before the official debrief. My team's reports are almost done. I comm'ed them on my way here. Bee is fine and will finish before he 'clocks' off. Raj is doing what he normally does at the end of unwinding after a mission gone way off plan, but promises to have it done by the joor before."

"What exactly is that? What does Mirage do that has him putting reports off so late?"

"Nothing of tactical use," Jazz said with a visor wink. "Don't ask because I'm not giving him up."

"But you've already started."

"Prowl," Jazz called to stop, refusing with a small frown.

"And there's more that goes into tactical planning than the execution of the actual plan. Timing and incorporation of post-mission data is every bit as important. You aren't qualified to make decisions on Tactical's behalf."

"Prowl, no."

"It's important to Tactical to know what can be considered as a regular occurrence in or around a mission so it doesn't impact a tactician's actively-engaged focus. You should know - "

"I see what you're doing! You're turning my words on me to get me to spill!"

Prowl deliberately offered a small smile as a concession. "More like to discourage you from trying that again. Shall we continue with my intended exercise, then?"

They worked through the report, with Prowl skipping “the fluff” parts that he found of no use, regardless of Jazz's opinion of amusement value. As they were finishing their final notes, Prowl received a request from Medbay. A doorwing sharply twitched before he forced it back to neutral. “Medbay is calling.”

“Here’s hoping it’s over nothing?” Jazz’s mouth twisted into a sideways displeasure.

The tactician opened the line. ::This is Prowl.::

::Prowl, this is Perceptor.::

::Perceptor, how can I assist? Is there a reason why your using the Medbay commlink instead of your own?::

::I’m calling because of some notes I saw in Ratchet’s administrative files. I’m using the Medbay commlink simply to officially mark this conversation took place, in case he protests later.::

::And what is causing you to take preemptive measures for damage control?::

::At a cursory evaluation of the staffing-related files, I found several annotated notes indicating a high frustration, and my educated prediction is that it will hinder the next officer meeting regarding such matters. I know you have an appointment with him today for a routine engine system medical check. Given the magnitude of checks you’ve already passed previously, I suggest foregoing this one and opting to assist him instead.::

::You want me to suggest skipping a medical check to Ratchet?::

::Of course not. I’ll do it. I’ve worked with Ratchet long enough in and outside of Medbay to know which discussion points have the best chance of getting him to agree with me. Records of this comm. being made will back up my claim I’ve check with you that 1) you’re feeling the same as you typically function on shifts similar to this one, and 2) you’ve agreed to the appointment change. So do you agree with both accounts?::

Prowl ran a fast systems check. ::My systems check return values within the acceptable range. I have no other issues, and I’m willing to make sure Ratchet doesn’t fall behind on his administrative duties.::

::Then I’ll make the arrangements. Word of advice: don’t say ‘fall behind on duties’ to Ratchet.::

::Understood.:: Both Prowl and Perceptor closed out their lines simultaneously.

“What’s the frown for?” Jazz asked as soon as Prowl’s optics turned to him.

Prowl smoothed out the micro negative expression. “I have a meeting with Ratchet that may turn unpleasant, if I don’t fully mind his outlook on the subject. Given that Ratchet’s clues for impending irritation are his body language instead of actual words, and I am poor at reading all but the most frequent signs, I suspect I’ll miss ‘minding’ something.”

Jazz looked at Prowl as his mind latched onto a fragment of that comment. He thoughtfully rubbed the side of his jawline as the idea speedily built itself.

Rather than tell Prowl about the idea, however, he offered different advice until he could investigate its potential later. “Let him do all the talking and if you feel like pushing back or commenting about anything other than the actual administrative work, comm. me first. Get it off your chassis and I’ll let you know if it sounds like a solid point to make.”

“I don’t require a sparkling-sitter, especially over the simple task of talking. My social skills may be lacking, but I’m not completely inept,” he replied with a dry drawl, nipping the inside of his cheek towards the end.

“Just try it, okay? I’m just thinking, Ratchet’s got the body language a lot like a turbo-fox, metaphorically. Ears pinned back, dentae bared when getting angry.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Prowl’s back, although already straight, managed to straighten more. “Having been in trouble with him for plenty and I have never seen such things.”

“I said _metaphorically_ ,” the more creatively-colorful mech defended before adding, “and by ‘metaphorically’ I also mean exaggerating to make a point.”

“Metaphors and hyperboles are not the same thing,” the more literary-aware mech pointed out.

“Art of storytelling, my mech. Especially when the audience’s mental facilities can be totally impaired, be it at a party, distracting a Medbay patient or distressed ‘bot, or something else.” Jazz smiled at Prowl’s raised optic ridge and wrinkled nosebridge, clearly not fully grasping whatever scenario was playing out in his mind about the purpose of Jazz’s point. He knew Prowl was trying to latch onto the more analytical side of his explanation, and that was all the more example of why Jazz’s idea was worth pursuing.

Still, until then, the TIC had other matters. “We good for now? ‘Cause even though this is a half shift, it’s now half-over. I haven’t actually checked my work queue box, so I may or may not having something to do while I wait for the meeting. That ‘I’ve got nothing to do’ is a bit of an assumption.”

“There’s always something for you to do. I counted 58 reports assigned to you as the start of this shift, and that's only for what’s on the traceable servers. I know Blaster has been monitoring your other servers, and while I haven’t seen or heard any concerns, his lack of ‘I can’t believe how quiet it is in XOps’ declarations when bringing me reports suggest you have plenty waiting on you. I suppose with your ‘office smarts,’ you’re taking any open-ended or distant deadlines as a sign of no work for now.”

“You’re just jealous I know how to space-out and level-set my workload to minimize both boredom and burden, without being the bottleneck either.”

“Don’t even try restarting that debate. If there’s nothing you identify as a need to work now, then there’s reports waiting on someone in Command to reassign or resolve them. Since Ironhide is out, perhaps you can?”

He flopped in his chair, mostly in good humor. “Aw, that’s the last time I say something like that. Better leave now before you add something else.”

“Now that you mention it…”

“Bye!” Jazz hopped the chair, half-darted over the desk to steal a brief kiss, and jogged the few paces out the door with a barely finished, “Don’t waste my efforts; finish that cube!”

Prowl’s optics lingered on the door, the surprise tingling on his lips fading fast. ‘ _As if_ I’m _the one who wastes your efforts_ ,’ he muttered, fixating on the easiest part to process Jazz’s fast escape.

He considered briefly reassigning some of the improper reports to Jazz just to give the mech something to keep his mind off of whatever was driving him to talk more, but the last time Prowl did that he found out (much later) that Jazz had decided to entertain himself in unregulated and even noncompliant manners.

One specific incident that caught his attention also became infamous on a handful of bases. Prowl had reassigned a number of nuisance reports to Jazz because Prowl could no longer waste time on berating mechs through report rejections. Inside the nuisance pile was a report asking for extra polish on some base had _somehow_ been routed to him. How that got routed all the way up to the Autobot SIC Prowl never confirmed, but he suspected an overreaching rubberstamp policy all throughout that particular command chain. He left a tiny Command-internal note when he handed it off.

Jazz finished the report handling by sending it back with fifty digital top layers mocked up to look like close ups of fifty different over-shined mechs, with an animated text on each layer reading, “Shinny enough for you?” After all fifty layers were unlocked and removed, the former taking a while because Jazz converted each layer’s lock into riddles regarding regulations, was a rejection tag. Its justification included a half-concealed foreboding explanation about not wasting Autobot General Army Command’s efforts because reading was too hard, or the warfront- and base- officers could donate their own polish bottles because they wouldn’t need it anymore. At least the bases associated with that warfront seemed to have corrected whatever oversight allowed the error. Still, as a mech known for being almost unrivaled in dedication to rigidly enforcing rules, Prowl couldn’t allow Jazz to do that again.

Not through traceable channels, anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone wondering about Springer's "size-bias," it's a ref to a scene in _All Hail Megatron_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, when the tac-set AI is speaking, I’m using ellipses for shortening it, since chapter 1 gave enough communication style framing. Prowl would still be hearing all of it, but I imagine that vast majority of you don’t want to read it all :)
> 
> The efforts to extend the base are not efforts for turning it into the Autobot City. I’m not trying to move the story toward the original Transformers movie, because doing that would make this ultimately incredibly sad. I'm also trying to keep Earth stuff vague and not time specific.
> 
> PPE = Personal protective equipment. Masks, knee guards, etc.

When the danger-rated reports were completed or as processed as possible for the moment, and enough of the other reports were finished to prove an effective productivity, the SIC resumed his on-going work with the elevated report. The report fell under Project EARTH-0084, but most called it “Autobot Suburban Sprawl.” That name usually had Prowl catching the tip of his glossa from automatically calling out its inaccuracy, as Prowl still remembered the suburbia of a preserved Praxus. He stayed quiet and allowed others to fancy the idea because it kept the masses in good spirits and out of (most) trouble.

This particular report was about the carving out another section of the volcano and reinforcing it for more soldier quarters. There was already thirty completed and currently undergoing inspections, but they intended to continue building until there were fifty new double-bunked soldier quarters. The _Ark_ would never fly again, unless the Autobots managed to overtake key Decepticon territories. Once it was accepted to be an extreme improbability of repairing for flight, they began working on converting the ship an actual base by using the _Ark_ as an important integral.

Bulkheads and rooms too crushed for use were being recycled, either as repurposed parts or reclaimed materials. Volcanic substances were combined with other chemicals for sturdy walls, once Autobot structural engineering and construction eliminated the porosity issues. There wasn’t enough of recycled bulkheads, furniture, rooms, etc. and volcano to finish the job alone, but it was a strong start.

Various goods from around the world were used as well. Regardless of their purposes, not all were easily obtained by or provided to the Autobots. Being “the good aliens” who were the only ones able to fully defend against “the bad aliens” only went so far in Autobot-Earth relations. Some countries and companies were easily persuaded to assist them through monetary, bartering, or serviceable agreements, and that closed almost all the gaps remaining for the Autobots to rebuild and grow. Obtaining a consistent source of the rest were still on-going efforts, and why Prime’s meeting was overrunning.

Optimus worked almost constantly on formalizing relationships in the matters of legal, finance, trade, and standardizing regulations. Jazz, Blaster, and a few others assisted in the matter. One of those few others turned out to be Sideswipe, who had a better knack for negotiations and financing then realized by Command. Prowl knew Sideswipe’s past included the skillset but clearly his records undersold the extent of said skillset.

Prowl voluntarily remained out of sight for the humans in these matters. There was plenty to do in the shadows. The newest studies on preventing seismic or volcanic activity completed, submitted, and accepted, they were almost ready to start the building expansion until they did a supplies count. Turned out that the Autobots were going through demolition supplies faster than Prowl planned.

At the three-breem warning for departing to his appointment with Ratchet, Prowl closed out the report with final touches and his authorization signature. He considered whether or not to bring some of his work with him to Ratchet’s, just in case. [[How much work for me specifically is still open? Lump by Priority Tier. What’s the projection on working with Ratchet over administrative concerns, and whether I’ll be able to do any work while he works?]]

[[User initiated action, query-type command… return: one Tier 1, three Tier 2, 183 Tier 3. Subroutine 'db_results_int_09844' status: complete, no error returns...]]

 ‘ _Well that’s discouraging._ ’ Prowl loathed to leave his desk, considering working with Ratchet over a commlink and screen rather than face-to-face.

[[New AI initiated action, recommended-course-of-action type…]]

The unexpected AI activity caught Prowl enough by surprise he didn’t get a chance to ask before it came back with a response. [[AI Barricade recommendation over course of action: do not work remotely with Ratchet. Barricade recommends Prowl work remotely on tactical reports while traveling and inside Medbay. With forecasted schedule fluctuations, calculated enemy activity, and adding schedule buffers with increased periods of uninterrupted work will allow a burndown of total work in 3 to 5 deca-orns. The 3 deca-orns requires workload offloading onto other tactical-capable personnel and a quick completion for each delegated work; the 5 deca-orns include investigations and potential battle over enemy intentions. Barricade will provide list of reports capable of being handed off to Smokescreen and Trailbreaker.]]

Prowl’s doorwing joints were suddenly heavier as his doorwings involuntarily drooped down and back, but his attention was stolen back inside his helm when the AI went on about its attack plan of getting his datapads, reports, battles – everything – under control again. Despite the “conversation” happening over a few split-kliks, it felt like forever when it finally ended with how it projected the end of the orn and the start of the next. [[Statistical probability of orn's target completion count with enough recharge to maintain Prowl's critical energy levels, based on forecasted energy expenditures and refueling intentions: 97.4761%.]]

‘ _And what if –_ ’ he began before abruptly ceasing his worrying. Even he knew the chances of battles, emergencies, or something of like nature, were naught for now. Decepticons may have little administrative oversight that’d slow down an attack, given their simplistic nature of “kill, conquer, or steal” attitude, but Jazz’s team’s unorthodox methods of adapting to the surprise Decepticon discovery including tricking a drinking Decepticon into ruining their only copies of information and specialized tools, contained to a box and a dataslug. Said tricked Decepticon’s reaction suggested Decepticon Command wouldn’t find out for at least half a deca-orn.

Prowl selected the data reports to be downloaded across 2 datapads, separated by classification, and then he disconnecting himself from the terminal while waiting for the data transfer on the pads to be completed. From the back of the chair pushing against his doorwings he realized his doorwings were still sitting at slightly lower angle than normal.

Out of nowhere Prowl heard Jazz’s voice in his head. ‘ _Shake off those droopy doorwings!_ ’

Prowl rubbed the inner corners of his optics. ‘ _I’m spending too much time with Jazz,_ ’ he gathered, both from the unsolicited imaginary words and the memory of Jazz declaring Prowl’s doorwings “too sad” and in need of cheering.

If he was going to work late enough to gamble with recharging the bare minimum before his next official shift start, then it was worth considering the new beta-test “coffee energon." Prowl knew he’d be cutting it close to his appointment with Ratchet, but he could make it if he moved quickly, quietly, and kept his optics down on a report.

With the last of the reports being downloaded he grabbed his desk cleaner and quickly cleared the surfaces. When the terminal signaled the transfer complete, he locked it down, gathered the two datapads, and locked his office.

He moved the hallways, using his doorwings more so than his optics as he worked on the datapads. Whenever his doorwings picked up someone glancing at him he’d tap a datapad several times as if there was something unhappy on it.

He entered the hallway forking off of the one to the Rec Room, where a second path didn’t used to exist. This one cut through recently-gutted ship internals and the hull. Storage units now lined the hallway leading to the smaller and quieter refueling area. The hallway was still under construction but only missing skin panels for those areas where the wiring hadn’t been inspect yet. The room lacked a television and entertainment sound system, contained 25 seats, and the lights were relatively low. There’d be talks about adding an adjacent room for napping for those on call, after it was pointed out the quarters were already somewhat too far away for increased danger alerts and longer shifts, and the new quarters were sprawling further out into the back.

When Prowl entered he noticed the only occupants were Red Alert and Inferno, the latter having his back to the entryway. Red glanced up at him and nodded curtly before continuing his quiet private conversation with Inferno. His efforts to maintain a private conversation were temporarily rendered futile when Inferno glanced back and offered a warm, “Hey, Prowl! Glad to see you out of your office on time. Set an example for Red.” Red Alert shot Inferno a withered look, but the pair’s conversation continued and Prowl respectfully dialed down his sensors so he couldn’t pick it up.

He approached the pair of normal energon dispensers, now grouped with a new neighbor. The newest dispenser was smaller with a heater attached, with the label “Coff-E.” The energon looked like blacken sludge but with the consistency of running water. Prowl stared at it, reconsidering his idea.

“I wouldn’t try that if I were you!”

Prowl glanced back at Inferno, now watching him. “Why?”

“Red had a teeny tiny bit and was jumping tables to see if he could stick his camera to the wall without needing me or a ladder.”

“Was not!” the security director protested.

“Okay, how about _hopping_ tables?” Inferno angled his body so he could look at the other two habitants easier.

“It was _a small_ jump from one table, and the high lasted about as long as the jump. I did at least stick the camera correctly.” Red pointed at a camera in the corner farthest from the hallway, next to a freshly-installed panel.

“Yeah, but I still had to grab a chair to finish the wiring.”

“I wanted to make sure it was in the right spot while you grabbed the wiring tools,” Red Alert protested, refusing to yield. He turned to Prowl. “I literally had a sip. Wheeljack had since ‘watered’ it down, which he has yet to explain what that means because there’s no water. I’d lock up the dispenser until Perceptor verifies its safe, but Ferno here won’t allow me to leave until he’s certain I won’t get carried away again once I get to my locks.”

Red Alert paused enough to frown and narrow his optics at Inferno. “So until then, I guess anyone can drink at their own risk. So go ahead if you want to act at your own health’s risk, because that's what I'm being forced to being on standby and witness."

"No one's had anything yet."

"Until maybe now, and now means I might have to watch Prowl risk his own health - "

"Like _that's_ a rare occurrence."

" - except Prowl's risks are risks to Autobot operations, so Prowl please don’t drink it.”

Prowl glanced at the questionable substance, at the camera, at the pair, and then back to the energon. He really didn’t want to work at pace that’d force him to have the barest minimum of recharge.

[[New AI initiated action... test coffee with smallest cup. Approximately 2.5922% of negative impact occurring before visit to Ratchet. If negative symptoms occur, 84.0013% chance they’ll occur in Medbay. Approximate value if energon works as intended: temporary increase in proficiency rate, up to estimated 10%.]]

Prowl sighed, willing his bravery as he reached for the cups they kept in the cupboards. These were "test size" energon cubes.

“Oh, come on, Prowl,” Red bemoaned as he saw Prowl go for the cups. “Please don’t.”

“I’m on my way to Ratchet. I promise to drink this slowly, if I drink anything past the first sip.” He finally found a tiny yellow cup with a single black strip. He was pretty sure he knew who made this.

[[New AI initiated action...]]

[[Return to standby.]] He delicately balanced the cup in his hand, filling it 2/3rds of the way. Very slowly he sipped it, ready by the disposal bin in case it was a mistake.

“ _Nooo_ , he’s drinking it,” Red Alert moaned. “Now I have to follow him to Ratchet’s and then back out.”

“Don’t you dare,” Inferno scolded, his grin instantly vanishing.

Prowl paid them little heed, noticing that it lacked taste and when he swallowed there was only a faintly unpleasant aftertaste of charred minerals. He sipped it again.

“No, don’t. Please stop,” Red begged, Inferno’s hand now moved into place to hold him down.

“Red, Jack cut the potency down in half, if not more. He ran a bunch of tests on volunteers and no one ended up sick before you had a sip, and he had a test sample to make sure afterwards. He’s fine. Prowl’s fine.”

“ _You_ didn’t have Coff-E jitters. Wheeljack’s first set of beta-tests were on some of our quietest and calmest troops, using a highly diluted sample. Do you have any idea what Coff-E jitters are like?!”

“Prowl isn’t, ah, as at risk to jitters as you,” Inferno awkwardly pointed out, trying to keep his face straight.

Red protested that statement while Prowl finished the energon and placed the cup in the sanitizer rack. “I must leave. If it’ll make your lives easier, I shall comm. both of you when I reach Medbay.”

“Yes! If I can’t follow you, then I’m timing you until I have or expect to have that message.”

“Thanks, Prowl. I and my off-duty plans would appreciate that,” Inferno said in gratitude over his shoulder while his arm remained straight out, physically holding the displeased mech across from him in place.

Prowl began his trek back out and towards Medbay. He was only a few steps into the hallway when he heard Inferno’s indignant snap, “You put that security datapad away! You are _not_ remotely following him while we’re talking.”

About halfway to the Medbay he felt a perk in his energy levels and his steps were automatically quickening. He glanced about the hallway and forced his pace to return to his original fast pace as he got a few concerned looks his way. He looked back to his datapad and noticed how his reading speed improved to a level similar to one early in his shift.

[[New AI initiated action ... Performance update: Coff-E sample increasing operating speed 6.7802%. Barricade recommends requesting Wheeljack add a potency variance dial on the coffee to achieve a performance level and duration as needed.]]

He sent a message to both mechs as promised just as he stepped through the Medbay door. His optics found Ratchet’s office with the privacy frosting activated on the windows, indicating that the CMO was most likely in there. He knocked and received a call to enter.

The door opened and Prowl stepped in to see Ratchet staring intently at one of the many disheveled datapads, two already fallen onto the ground. “These requests are making my helm hurt,” the CMO grumbled.

“Are those the training requests?”

Ratchet held up one and pointed to another. “Yeah. Rest is medical.” Most medical work was kept on datapads instead of syncing up with _Teletraan_.

“I don’t know how you do this,” Ratchet complained, rubbing the bottom half of his chevron. “I could always use one or two more medics and the more I train the better confidence I have of the Autobots surviving the war. But then where do I pull the medics, how do I pull them, and when? This is how I might finish going mad. I thought it would be the combined work of the Twins, Minibots, Hide, Jack, Optimus, and recently I thought even you would be the final nail, but no; it’ll be staffing datawork.”

An audible straining noise coming from the datapad’s screen was caught by both, emitting from right underneath one of Ratchet’s hands. He huffed but released his grip to flip it such that Prowl could see the screen. Ratchet tapped one name. “This one is a good candidate because he could become a lead doctor on a bigger and more active base, but there’s only one other medic with him and that one only transitioned into medical care about 100 vorns ago.”

“Have you thought about a medical rotation through the non-critical bases and fields? When you’ve sufficiently trained those, you can rotate them into critical positions and put overworked doctors into positions with less stressful environments. It’ll allow a reprieve that I’ve come to know from you is necessary – ”

Ratchet’s optics narrowed.

“– while letting them provide their experience to train those still too early in their training to rotate. When the experience medics get here then you can trade experiences. Surely there’s something you can learn. The universe offers an infinite number of possible encounters and ways for them to go wrong.”

“Oh good Primus, that sounds like so much work,” he moaned while rubbing his face. The sounds of a datapad under duress returned.

Prowl slowly counted to five before offering a solution he knew could turn regrettable. “How about I assist you now on finding a solution to the doctor you’re focused on now, and then we set up recurring staffing meeting between us? Before the end of the deca-orn, perhaps?” Their standard Command Officers meeting were at the end of each deca-orn.

“Deal!” Ratchet instantly seized the offer before Prowl finished his last word.

“My deca-orn is quite full but I’ll make time somewhere. I can't promise it'll always accommodate our own local shift rotations, but we can always try that Coff-E.”

Ratchet bit back the snarky comment about Prowl’s deca-orn being described only as “quite full” instead of the overflowing mound he knew it to be. His lips curled back at the mention of Coff-E. “I cannot believe you like that stuff. Taste like stale slag and had Red doing jumping jacks, or so I’ve heard. I better not catch you drinking that in place of regular energon. You fuel too little on your own, and that stuff is meant to be used between refueling as a quick, irregular pick-me-up. Like meetings scheduled way too early,” had added with a pointed glare.

Prowl ignored the barb. “I found the taste to be bland with only a hint of charred metal scrap. Red Alert claims it was a single jump because he didn’t want to wait for assistance to reach a corner. I can tolerate the taste and handle the effects better than Red Alert.”

“Fine, but stop by Medbay if you have more than two cups within one online period. No one’s tested more than that. If you’re going to play it risky with Jack’s energon concoctions, I’d prefer you do it during other medical mechs' schedules, or during the time blocks on my schedule marked as 'free'.”

“Your schedule is never free, but I’ll try to plan my questionable experiments around the ‘do not disturb’ blocks.”

Ratchet snorted. “Neither one of use has free schedules. Like I said, I could use another medic, and not just because it’s looking like we’ll have a 33% headcount increase before we’re done carving up the insides of the mountain. It’s time-consuming to get volcanic debris out of unprotected joints and seams. Jack’s been making PPE as fast as he can, but the downside to off-duty volunteers is he can’t make it fast enough. We’ve also had a sudden repeat problem of rivets appearing in body parts they don’t belong in. We’ve had 4 Autobots rivet themselves to the new walls, claiming the cause in accidents is the shifting grounds. Percy and Grapple says that’s hot slag because the latest seismic analysis is done. Someone left a request on Jazz’s server to look into it, and he came by. Based on the injured, in name and damage patterns, some of the markings he found at the sites, the injured’s volunteer partners, he suspects that the dumbafts are playing a cross between ‘dodge ball’ and ‘Russian roulette’ with the riveting guns. Mirage is supposed to scout it out on his next shift.”

“That kind of possibility only causes me to ask why the Decepticons haven’t pulverized us yet,” Prowl drily commented.

“The backstabbing and dominatrix-session-gone-bad nature of their command chains helps, but it’s probably more of their general troops screwing each other for more energon, creds, and rank. I don’t know, ask a psych sometime between their evaluations of Berserker #4555 and Paranoid #5444.” Ratchet shrugged.

“How humorous that you think the debilitating paranoia cases only tallies up to 5,444,” Prowl retorted completely deadpan. He felt no amusement in the matter, but he took his cues from how others approached Red Alert’s condition. Either frustration or humor, and Prowl wasn’t about to mimic frustration around Ratchet. Reality of the matter was he was keenly aware of those numbers because of its associated tactical statistics and probabilities of sustainable bases.

“When did I say new evaluations instead of re-evaluating? Don’t sass me, Prowl. You’ll never win.”

“My apologies.”

“But it can’t be all the Decepticon’s own undoing that keeps us alive and kicking,” Ratchet commented, backtracking the conversation somewhat. “I’d like to think my tough love has something to do with it. Plus there’s Prime’s command style and your tac-set. Speaking of which, how’s it handling? I hear it’s about to get its first real challenge since the full restart, deciphering whatever the Pit Jazz stumbled acrossed – and almost _into_ ,” Ratchet asked, setting aside his datapad and brushing the rest to the desk edges for a clear space.

“I’ve already tasked over the breakdown of the reports. The tac-set handled it the same as it has been handling everything else. I’ve kept up First Aid and Perceptor on it, just as requested, during my spark checkups.”

Ratchet shifted his seated weight slightly at the reminder. “They’ve given me their reports and observations after each check, and just now I got reminded again. Perceptor was – as far as I’m concerned – overly prepared for me showing up to make his case.” He settled the datapad on the center of his desk and swept his hands in the air along the datapad as if presenting something novel. “Show me how to work your magic, oh Great Wizard of the Staffing Admin Lands.”

The pair worked together for over a joor on how to get the first doctor to catch Ratchet’s optic to the _Ark_ for training, while also setting up the beginning stages of the medical position rotations. A couple of times Prowl almost comm’ed Jazz but refused to need help like a sparkling on his second orn of lessons. As far as Prowl could tell, Ratchet wasn’t further out of sorts since his arrival.

At half-past the first joor, Prowl felt the tingles of a helmache, although it wasn’t the typical type. Absently he touched his forehelm while he tried diagnosing it.

“Don’t tell me I’ve already given you a helmache,” Ratchet demanded when he saw the hand move.

“No, I have a strange helmache forming.”

“Maybe it’s the Coff-E? Or maybe it’s the tac-set?” Ratchet frowned. “You mentioned already working on those reports for Jazz’s mission. Perhaps there’s a relay or code having trouble that you haven’t used recently.” The CMO pointed to Prowl’s hand. “You’re touching a spot near one tac-set driver component.”

The tactician dropped his hand. “The AI hasn’t alerted me to any concerns.”

[[User initiated action …]]

“If anything,” Prowl slowly verbalized at the impromptu query, “my tac-set has been overly using its codes and relays.”

“Come again?” Ratchet resisted the urge to grab Prowl by his chin and hold him in place while testing for signs of heat permeating beyond its housing.

“It keeps pulling itself out of standby.”

“How long has _that_ being going on?” Ratchet automatically switched modes, dropping his datapad the small distance onto the desk. “The new codes and safety parameters we installed eight mega-orns ago should make that extra impossible.”

“In the last few mega-orns it’s become more active in tasking itself rather than waiting on me. The end of last orn was the first time in about one mega-orn since I’ve actual ordered it on standby.” Prowl kept the timeframes as generic as he could, minimizing chances of Ratchet realizing the standby efforts were tied to Jazz in a not-strictly-professional way.

He couldn’t avoid the part about the sudden change being so fresh and the obvious timing tied to Jazz. Ratchet heard him demand Jazz open his door. Instead he tried to mitigate the potential of discovery or suspicion. “My tac-set kept attempting to calculate odds on Jazz in the post-mission and his response to the reports. Eventually I executed a standby command and opted to work with the less technical reports. Since I started this shift, it has come out of standby several times.”

Ratchet pushed his chair back to use it for sliding across the room to a cabinet. He unlocked it and pulled out a datapad. “Let’s go,” Ratchet motioned for Prowl to standup even as he did. “I don’t like it when programs start mutating or violating safety protocols.”

Still clutching his own datapads, Prowl followed Ratchet out the door, the CMO pausing briefly to issue a de-frost command so any visitors would see an empty office. The office automatically locked the door and darkened all electronic screens behind Ratchet, a measure added because the nature of Ratchet’s responsibilities didn’t always come with a warning.

They headed to the temporary medical booth for processor and coding related exams. The back wall wasn’t visible and from the way the covers moved, Prowl suspected the back wall was missing. “Don’t tell me that plans to expand the Medbay are already underway. They aren’t scheduled yet, and I haven’t authorized it. I haven’t see anything asking to authorizing it ahead of schedule, either.”

Ratchet shrugged. “Maybe the request got lost in the mail. Ah well, too late. Some of my frequent patients got carried away with suggestions on making Medbay more comfortable and capable.”

“Wha – no. Excuse me?” Prowl sputtered, along with a string of half-formed protests, reprimands, and regulation citations.

“We need to get the Medbay decently sized for the new incoming headcounts. You can’t just have more soldier quarters. Not enough Autobots have training in avoiding being stepped on by Combiners. What happens if Bruticus and Menasor trap a bunch of untrained Autobots?”

“I’d like to think we can avoid two giant Cybertronians surprising us out of nowhere and trapping a bunch of our soldiers like inbred turbofoxes,” Prowl snipped, his irk at the insinuated failure seeping past his filters.

Ratchet scoffed. “You say destruction-preventative planning, I say ‘oh slag!’ planning. I am responsible more for dealing with the fallout or rectifying stupidity. _Sadly,_ most of my patients aren’t here because they need their annual tune up. Like for example, you. Right here, right now. Now hop up.”

As he moved onto the heavily-wired medical berth, Prowl muttered almost snidely, “You’re not the only one involved in contingency and recovery planning.”

Ratchet considered ignoring Prowl, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. “Your responsibilities don’t include Medbay, other than finding ways to keep the number in-bound patients down to nearly zero.”

“My planning requires knowing what’s on-going and what’s available. While true that tactical shouldn’t be planning Medbay activities or devising its recovery plans, knowing the full set of risks are important. You know I can’t always build plans with a 95% chance that 95% of mechs won’t need repairs beyond what self-repair can correct.” Prowl tried keeping the displeasure out of his voice, still not quite used to being forced to “experience” emotions.

He modified the emotional filter settings to filter out as much emotion as possible, but Ratchet’s and Perceptor’s module didn’t allow him to completely snuff it out. He tacked onto his point, but internally so not to start a fight right before a medical checkup with a medic, ‘ _You should know better, that type of injury or deactivation prevention is not even close to a possibility. Do not pretend you don’t know what it’s like to be forced to pick working on one patient because there’s two or more patients in bad shape but you can only try saving one._ ’

Granted, being forced to pick which of two dying mechs had the best chance of survival wasn’t the same as planning a mission that barely made the goal of keeping it from being classified as a suicide mission. Jazz seemed to be the only Command Officer able to understand it, but it still repeatedly came to Prowl's attention that no one could understand that, except mechs who put their lives on the line for those missions. It was making him uncomfortable more so ever since Medical decided to go ahead with their repairs to his almost-lifelong-dead emotional center, because even trying to cut out all emotions since said repairs he still found himself struggling more. Yet he didn’t have grounds to insist the repairs being a wrongdoing because the repairs happened while they were trying to save his life.

So he struggled in silence. Luckily it hadn’t been too much disruptive distress, prior to Jazz’s departure, as the combat-related and mission-related plans were minimal and nowhere near that suicide mission threshold. He kept what struggles he had silent even around Jazz, in part because he knew he’d been difficult for Jazz in the past and he was at a loss at how to broach the subject to a mech he’d inadvertently hurt by being emotionally detached.

Then he learned a simple training mission was disrupted with almost no intel about what had happened. He tried building plans with what little Jazz had been able to send, but the suddenness of the change, the dangers, vast number of unknowns, and inability to communicate left him internally dealing with experiencing an all-around feeling of uselessness beyond tactical frustration.

_Blaster entered his office as if trying to pass through his door, almost at the exact moment Prowl received multiple urgent pings. "Prowl, something's happened with Jazz's team. The training mission turned into a real mission, but we don't have more details beyond a quick comm."_

No! He didn’t want to dwell on remembering learning about it, becoming borderline flustered with heated energon lines as he tried solving matters. Especially not now with Jazz back. Right now all he needed to focus on was addressing the tac-set’s changes since Jazz returned. He also needed to address Medbay's construction additions without an authorization request. “Just make sure someone sends me something regarding the construction in here before my next shift."

“Sure. Maybe Sideswipe. He gave me some troubles earlier and he’s the one cackling on about building himself and Sunny a shared permanent Medbay suite. Now, just lay there quietly while I try debugging the tac-set.”

[[Barricade is not bugged.]]

Ratchet was hooked cables to Prowl's helm, two ports, and below his cortex. His attention was split between the cables and the computer.

"Ratchet, the tac-set just responded to your 'debug' statement. In a rather mech-like way."

Ratchet's helm snapped to Prowl. "Come again? What does that mean?"

"It - Barricade - responded to you that it's not bugged," Prowl clarified. "Barricade does seem to be changing rapidly. Growing in such a manner that it gives the impression of having a mech always with me. Almost like Barricade is trying to talk for me, perhaps. Strange."

Ratchet studied the screen carefully, using his finger to slowly scroll through the screen. Each time he tapped something his frown deepened. A few times Prowl felt medical test programs pinging testing his systems. Just as Prowl was about to demand something besides a silently frowning bedside manner, Ratchet finally started speaking. His words were slow and between a few pauses. “Prowl, I think we should turn off your tac-set for a joor.”

Prowl’s doorwings shot straight up so fast he felt a twinge in his joints. “Absolutely not. How can you even suggest that?”

“I’m suggesting it because of what you said, the questionable results from my poking around, and because while waiting on a few code tests I read a couple of Aid’s and Percy’s notations about a few tac-set oddities.”

“‘Questionable results?’” Prowl echoed. “Unless you’re about to tell me these questionable results are indicative of a catastrophic failure that can only be resolved by a full shutdown, I’m not allowing it.”

“Look,” Ratchet started matter-of-factly, crossing his arms and squaring his torso at Prowl.

“No, you need to reconsider your advice,” Prowl countered immediately. “Up until eight mega-orns ago, you’ve never been able to fully shut it off. So long as my processor power cortex wasn’t totally de-energized, the tac-set wasn’t completely off. There’s never been a push to shut it off separately because it’s always needed to be ready at a thousandth-of-a-klik’s notice for emergencies, and it’s never been a danger to my health.

“The only reason you had Jazz and Perceptor force a full shut off eight mega-orns ago was because you were afraid it’d negatively impact me survival chances onlining for the first time after near spark termination. I’m online, as close to death as you are right now inside an inactive volcano in mid-conversion into a base, and my earlier helmache is already diminishing. I _will not_ put anyone at risk by doing the unthinkable on a war front. One with almost the entire Decepticon Command, no less.”

Ratchet’s hand almost slapped on one of the machine surfaces. “Damn it, Prowl. Stop deflecting. Time for some hard truths. Do you know what I read and hear when I heard you talk about this ‘Barricade’? Here’s what I read: irregular tac-set activity spikes every time you said ‘Barricade’ or when your tac-set included the name in my tests just now. When I pushed for purging ‘Barricade’ from its database I saw code indicators of battle aggression. The kind that matches some of the fragment activity logs Perceptor downloaded when we were piecing you back together - _particularly the parts time stamped to match its attack on Sideswipe._ Perceptor’s code had seemingly eliminated that when we finally booted it back up. Maybe repeating that will purge the bad code, or maybe it's only half a solution. I won't know until I try.

“But you know what? I’m not concerned with just that. I’m also concerned with what I’m hearing and seeing. I hear you headed right back into the same behavior that caused you to abandon yourself to serve Tactical like a walking frame to mobilize a tac-set, instead of being a mech with a mobilized tac-set. That attitude literally almost destroyed your spark. You deliberately drowned out the warning signs of your own spark so it wouldn’t interrupt your tac-set or your comfort in letting it have control because Primus forbid you have to feel like a mech with a spark. I hate to break it to you, but _you_ are that spark; _you_ are not that tac-set. I am _trying_ to be nice because it is too difficult to watch you slowly die again.”

Ratchet snapped his neck and helm back to screen, forcing himself to take a moment and calm down after ranting at another self-sacrificing mech continually ignore medical concerns until they fulfilled their unintended (sometimes intended) self-destruction. He cycled his vents upon realizing his fingers grasping the corners of the machine’s surface were shaking from a dent-worthy tight grasp.

“Oh…” Prowl quietly replied after watching Ratchet until his vents were quieter. “But I can’t risk Autobot safety. Even though Barr – _I’ve_ calculated less than an 8% chance of Decepticon activity this orn, I can’t take that chance.”

Ratchet almost growled but he focused on trying to find a point that’d at least close the gap between medical necessity and Prowl’s refusal. “Alright, fine. How about this: while you still very much need to have it off for a joor so we can make sure everything is corrected, uploaded, and protected so it properly purges bad code, things may be slightly improved if we shut it down for 10 breems. Forcefully stop any running bad code, and let me load a quick program to clear some of the caches. Give your components a chance to cool down, too. And maybe, just _maybe¸_ you can take those 10 breems to remember to be a mech.”

Prowl silently staring at Ratchet, a tightness in his spark and the subsequent guilt feeling he was learning washing through him as he thought how he still hadn’t come up with a solution to undo some of the damage he’d done by lying to Ratchet for several deca-orns. Jazz offered a few small solutions but they only made some headway is reducing tension in _other_ subjects.

[[Barricade recommends: rejecting unnecessary medical procedure. Risks associated to Prowl’s work schedule and Autobot safety.]]

[[I don’t need a list of risks. I already started arguing them, but Ratchet’s points aren’t without merit.]]

[[Query: counter points to Ratchet’s arguments…]]

[[No,]] Prowl interrupted, not letting it getting away with taking it upon itself to decide his medical wellbeing. He almost gave it a new command but then it dawned on him exactly what was happening. [[What’s more important: the tac-set’s continual function or my capability to function?]]

Prowl swore the AI hesitated. [[Barricade’s continual function is critically impacted by a mobile frame and source of energy, capable of integrating with AIs on isolated computers, decipher value of antidotal notes in reports from Autobots, and to direct Autobots through mech-relatable methods. Prowl is vital to tac-set functionality. The tac-set’s continual function and Prowl’s capability to function are equally important and too integrated for one to exist with the other crippled or missing.]]

Prowl was willing to accept that statement. It didn’t resolve the issue with the AI acting abnormal, and he had new concerns from Ratchet’s remark about new changes pointing to a time the AI managed to continually override Prowl’s control of his own frame. There was some assurance in the unlikeliness of that happening again, but was it enough?

[[Barricade also requires Prowl to process the inefficiency of Cybertronians and turn them into something Barricade can manipulate and calculate efficiently.]]

All of Prowl’s musings came to a screeching halt. [[Are you ultimately telling me I’m important because I move and can provide supplemental support to the tac-set manipulating others?]]

[[Yes. Example: Bluestreak’s emotional needs and redirecting them on the battlefront, with specific sniper targets.]]

Prowl was willing to allow the tac-set to list him as an asset, but not Bluestreak. “Ratchet, could you set up a system to purge the bad codes, empty all but schedule-related and reports-related caches, with the tac-set shut completely down for only 5 breems?”

Ratchet entire upper frame sank backwards from relief relaxing his stiff pose. “We can try. Lay back down so I can drop you into temporary stasis. I’ll be reducing the power to your processor cortex first, connecting at least one more processor-related cable, and then shutting off the tac-set. When my diagnostic equipment can verify that the tac-set is truly off, I’ll bring you back online.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record I don’t drink coffee, but I do live in a diehard area for coffee. Like a huge chunk of people are proud to be an addict teetering on borderline violence at all times for one reason or another. This is how I’ve chosen to deal with that level of coffee craziness, especially since the doom day of Coffee Banishment on Second Floor, decreed by management after the coffee thieves kept pillaging the kitchen with nary a peep or sight caught by trepid office dwellers. Wails from the second floor that day reached far and wide, and so the other floors called upon guards to protect their kitchens, choosing headstrong leaders unafraid to grill even the tiniest tea drinker, least it be a thief masking his/her intentions with aromas of dry leaves and the bobbing of drowning strainers.
> 
> (I really should go to bed)


	4. Chapter 4

When he felt the reboot process onlining his system, Prowl immediately noticed the faster boot cycle and instinctively sent a query to both his self-repair systems and his tac-set. One went unanswered and the other reminded him his tac-set was off. He powered on his optics and looked into the tilted face of a leaning Ratchet.

“So… now what?” Prowl asked, feeling almost distressingly naïve about how to approach the situation, suddenly remembering what it was like to have all other sources of “talk” inside his helm silenced. He rolled his body into a more attentive sitting position, forcing Ratchet to step back. Once sitting, Prowl rotated his neck around to dispel the growing discomfort inside his helm, only to feel small tugs on the outside of his helm. Ratchet's patient pawed a little at the cables connecting to the back of his cerebral cortex and to the side of helm by the tac-set, as if they were suddenly announcing themselves by itching his plating.

The CMO replied with a ' _pfffht_ ' and stopped Prowl's hand from touching the cables further. “The one on the side is a backup, for monitoring activity. It should read zero on everything but temperature, and that should soon read temperatures expected of a normal processor’s range.” He tapped the screen. “So far that’s all true and it’ll set off alarms if that’s no longer true.

“The other cable is doing its job. I’m not elaborating on ‘how’ since I don’t want the AI to find out the ‘how’ through you, and use that to build its own code or tac-set/processor interface protocols as countermeasures.”

“Understood. That's why you, your team, and Jazz have never explained the first fix to me," Prowl murmured, looking at his hands and trying to figure out what to do with them if he wasn't allowed to investigate the cables. Normally if he was in Medbay and not allowed to hold reports or puzzles, he wouldn't have a second thought over leaving his hands on his lap or by his sides, as if on standby for work.

Now his hands felt foreign. Hands do things, but what did they do without a tac-set needing their assistance, or him needing them while playing puzzle games or doing very private activities? What did he do with them last time his tac-set was completely offline? Besides his brothers smushing a bowl of energon goodies in his hands because they stuck him in the middle every time for movies, or when he stole reports to work on them for Jazz.

"Jazz's knowledge on the matter is more hack-related than medical-related." Ratchet trailed off for a klik before wirily adding, "I'm not sure which is more problematic of the tac-set getting leaked info on how we contained it."

"Jazz talked Barr - _it_ down so the program could be downloaded. It and I know that."

"A vital first step, but technically his role was only the first step that one time. I'm not trying to under credit Jazz, but there's no Pitting way I want his role to be something beyond that one-time first step. If we need him, need to credit him anything else, then things have gone very wrong. Now stop asking questions it might use against us to prevent shutting it completely offline again, if this measly 5 breem break doesn't work."

"'Pitting?' Are you using the noun for Unicron's lair as a verb now?" Prowl asked and Ratchet responded with only a smirk.

Prowl ex-vented. "Fine, as you insist I'll drop my questions. For now I'll... perhaps we could… what happens now?” Prowl huffed and dropped his hands, inadvertently placing them a pleading fashion. He immediately rectified the pose by curling them back and together, neatly into his lap.

From his own ultra-high optic resolution, Ratchet closely watched Prowl’s body language, but his primary anchor of focus was on Prowl's optics, searching for clues on Prowl's state. A mech like Prowl was least guarded in his optics when his own defenses and countermeasures were eliminated. To any mech with standard optics Prowl’s optics looked like a solid icy blue. Most Cybertronians had optics with a fairly thick outer lens, with just enough opaque material to obscure 80-90% of the movements of the inner optic workings. Less transparent optics were available but in general replacing the optic lens was harder. Plus inner optic workings were more sensitive and also harder to procure. With Command that was moderately less difficult, given that roughly 2/3rds of Command wanted to reduce transparency as close to zero as possible. Where Jazz used multi-function visors, Prowl went with specially-tinted and denser outer optic lens. The denser material and particular shade of blue gave him an icy appearance. Ironhide and Red Alert address their concerns with a similar methodology to Prowl's, but with different approaches and different appearances.

Ratchet's optics were different, given that medics worked on entirely different principles where the emphasis wasn't on block their own optics from others' observations, but their own optics being able to see beyond others' blocks. At this range he could easily see past Prowl's main defense and observe the inner optic movements. The sharp edge and short precise movements that came with the tac-set's activities was completely lost, replacing Prowl's second defense with soft confusion. Ratchet observed subtle lens changes reminiscent of an amnesia mech trying to take in information and remember who they were. Changes that kept going from wide to narrow as they slowly swept the room and equipment. They settled on the back wall’s covers, tightly covered to prevent any debris escaping into the area. They traced the contours of missing wall sections, beneath that cover.

Ratchet referenced back to his other concern for Prowl, but this time much carefully with the intent of broadcasting care by kindness instead of care by chewing out his stubbornness. “Now that there's not a possible interruption from the tac-set, you should take the four-and-a-half-plus breems to think about _personal_ interests. Personal concerns. Whatever is too 'mech' for the tac-set to not pester you about it, I suppose." He added a small shrug. "You'd know better than me what it's been giving you grief over.”

Those optics moved back to Ratchet and the CMO observed slow zooming in and out, much like an amnesic indecisively distrusting another presence. Ratchet’s first thought was to tell him to knock off the distrust of his doctor, but his second was to remember how uncertain Prowl became after he started realizing he was “alone.”

While Ratchet observed and internally debated, Prowl was trying to establish connections with his normal mindset. When he looked at the back wall with its covered hole, he first thought about how he was going to get on Medical’s collective afts for ignoring the proper channels of base modifications. That thought never finished when the most obscured observation invoked a memory.

The way the tan material wrapped around a support beam on one side, secured by faded red rope, and was very tightly stretched along the orange wall to reach the next beam, reminded him of his first solo Enforcer patrol investigation in Praxus. An old warehouse building at the edge of a long-term storage park had a faded tan paint job, and from the way the setting sun hit it, there was some visually ascertainable rust. One of the towers looked particularly orange and had rust pits when he got close, searching for the petty criminal activity. Instead of young vandals he found a spray paint stained mech dangerously close to overdosing on an illicit recreational supply. The mech was stabilized at the hospital and the datawork was finished just as his shift ended. For once Prowl decided to leave on time, and after he got home Bluestreak called him not 5 breems later, eager to hear about his brother’s first time without a trainer. When Prowl mentioned busting/rescuing a mech behind a slowly-rusting building, Bluestreak was alarmed and kept asking him if he was _sure_ he didn’t get any rust on him, or if there was any in the spray paint. He went so far as to say if Prowl felt sick but didn’t get himself checked, Bluestreak would move out of their creators' home and into Prowl’s to make sure that he “behaved” himself.

“Oh holy Primus on an oil wafer, you’re smiling. Like _genuinely_ smiling, not fake or sardonic smiling,” Ratchet amazing, jaw slack. “What in this dark unholy universe has _you_ smiling?”

Immediately Prowl killed the unplanned smile. “If you want me to take these 4 remaining breems to be ‘more mech-like,’ then you need to leave. You gasping about is not helping.”

Ratchet narrowed his optics at the “gasping about” remark. “Fine, be that way. And it’s just under 4.5 breems. You’re not getting away with short-changing me or my machines.” He shook his finger at Prowl as he back away several steps, pivoted, and left.

Prowl considered Ratchet’s suggestion, but the CMO's comment about his smile made him acutely aware of his exposure. Instead he reconsidered just working on a datapad. He grabbed one and out of sheer reflex sent his tac-set a command before belatedly remembering. Prowl’s fingers brushed the power button as he hesitated over picking the comfortable workaholics nature driving by a tac-set over his natural inclinations.

‘ _Which is…?_ ’ Prowl’s optics slowly widened as he tried finding something. ‘ _I have no clue what I’m partial to doing on my own._ ’ He looked again at that dark datapad, thinking about how if he worked on it now he didn’t need to waste time fretting about how he was possibly a stranger to his own self, and any work done now was time saved for when he could be with Jazz and actually _be with Jazz_.

‘ _Jazz…_ ’

Without his tac-set adding its bit on Jazz, Prowl could really "hear" his spark better. Not just through the emotion filters, but it felt stronger in his chassis. The fluttering was stronger, as if his spark wasn't "sufficiently healed" but truly healed. There were no irregular movements or brief flickers of pain from the expected spark-scaring from coming back from such a serious spark injury.

Cautiously he let his filters down and there was renewed whispering in his helm, but this time it came from behind the wall. It whispered _trust_ , _support_ , and _acceptance_. The sensations were almost like he had all of his extra-sensitive spark sensors again, the ones originally meant to assist Prowl in realizing whether or not his spark was in a satisfactory state (aka still surviving). It reminded him of the time he cut ties with his spark's ability to communicate with his mind so he couldn't feel pain over Jazz, where it cried "no" with a hurtful energy pang - except this time it was the opposite. If there was a feel to "yes," he suspected it was this.

What were these whispers? Words without full context but enough to form a grainy picture, perhaps, but Prowl wasn't comfortable acting on or in accordance to what he didn't have a strong statistical correlation calculated and proven.

Perhaps if he listened more he'd have more context. Prowl offlined his optics, lowered his fans to near idle speeds, and tried for the first time in a very long time to listen to his spark.

"Ready?"

Prowl's helm snapped up to give the unannounced Ratchet a bewildered look, with flickering optics, before the tactician roughly halted his movements. He schooled his expression back into neutral and forced his doorwings back into the neutral upright position, releasing the forgotten datapad in his lap.

"A fast 4.5 breems?" Ratchet gingerly questioned, caught off aware by the startling reaction.

"It was an _unusual_ 4.5 breems. Your return merely brought back a sudden normality that I wasn't watching for."

Ratchet heard the guarded nature in the words. "Would you like more time to transition smoothly from the unusual to the normal at your pace?"

"No thank you. I do have work to complete, and the protection of everyone to ensure.”

“Fine. I’ll have to put you back into temporary stasis and make sure things start back up correctly. I'll run some diagnostic testing while you’re out.”

||||

Despite Ratchet’s reassurances, once he was free of the cables Prowl completed his own checks to verify his tac-set was functioning well. [[Recommendations for remaining time before recharge?]]

[[User initiated action, query-type...]] The AI began, running through the commands before returning the top three options. [[...Return: recommend follow the highlighted schedule. Two alternatives available. Subroutine...]]

Prowl reviewed it carefully, hyperaware of keeping his thoughts isolated from the AI about the missing “Barricade” references. The constant chatter from the AI during the query run matched the chatter of before Jazz’s trip instead of after. “Ratchet, it appears your efforts have worked. At least for the immediate time.”

“Great, then I’ve had my win for the orn. Don't suppose I could convince you to do this again? Preventative maintenance can make the difference, and that includes keeping chances for bad/mutating code opportunities at bay."

"At this time convincing me to risk so much for an understudied hypothetical is highly improbable. My arguments from before remain very much the same."

"And my arguments from before remain very much the same, and will be waiting for you next time I see you," Ratchet rebutted, with a faint coy grin.

"So I shouldn't schedule those recurring administrative datawork meetings?"

That wiped the medic's face clean, replacing it with a scowl. "Okay, fine; excluding times when _I_ need _you_ while we're on duty, my arguments will be waiting and will remain very much the same."

"I suppose that's acceptable, in light of your natural inclinations."

"Excuse me? You mean my natural inclinations to make sure all the little soldiers, officers, agents, and other sundries Autobots survive? To be naturally inclined to harbor all arguments for each one of those mechs not die from something they could have prevented? You referring to _those_ natural inclinations?"

"Sure. Speaking of harboring and work, I have too much of my own work items waiting on me," Prowl redirected to excuse himself.

“Uh huh.” Ratchet watched Prowl for signs of concern, following him until they neared the main Medbay door. “Don’t forget to schedule that meeting. I want to get that rotating inter-base medic scheduling going before we get a bunch of new soldiers. Getting to know even half of the ones already stationed here will be scary enough for a new doctor.”

“Of course.”

When the doors closed behind him Prowl looked again at the AI’s proposed schedule. Its first proposed step was to get more Coff-E and drink it slower.

When he made back to the small break room, he spotted a mech he thought unlikely to be at work at this time. "Wheeljack?"

The engineer turned around from the Coff-E dispenser and waved, a small gadget in hand. "Hey, Prowl!"

"You're off duty," the master scheduler stated, his nose wrinkling.

Wheeljack shrugged. "Yeah, but I've gotten so much feedback that I thought I'd ticker with it before the next shift starts. Prime approved it on account of an upcoming early meeting he has with Red. I think he figures he could try a boost before listening to Red's bi-weekly ra- _ahhh_ , list - of the securities issues from all the construction projects. Apparently no one can really stand the taste all that well. Except maybe you? Red and Ferno mentioned you not grimacing or spitting it out like some of the others."

"I found the taste tolerable in favor of the tradeoffs."

Wheeljack's fins light up a bright green-blue, aka the "happy to be appreciated" color. "So far you are the only one. A few swallowed it okay, but said they wouldn't try it again unless it was the only thing that'd help them fake looking alive after not recharging."

"So what are you doing now?"

Wheeljack turned back to the dispenser and tapped the top with his tool, showing the new attachment on the side and top. "Installing some flavor options to try and mask the taste until I can solve the problem at the source. Problem is finding a chemical solution that gives short energy bursts without burning through regular energon reserves, while safely mixing with energon-processing systems, and doesn't taste like what I'm extracting it from."

"An aftertaste faintly comparable to burnt slag?"

Wheeljack winced. "The extraction process needs some refining... Still, demand is high while so many ‘Bots keep at the construction and all things related. I'm not putting one in the Rec Room until I get this one smoothly working, which adds pressure from certain Autobots who don't like going near officers. Ah well, the cowards will just have to recharge like they're supposed to."

"There are certain soldiers I'd rather not be able to take more than a small and carefully managed amount right before their scheduled shift, and only then," Prowl agreed as he waited. "If I may add another request?"

"Sure. No promises on getting it done now," he said with a shrug.

"I wouldn't ask you to rush something we consume. Can you add a potency control? Red Alert mentioned that you 'watered it down,' so I can assume that it wasn't near its maximum effect."

Wheeljack stared, his fins flickering a shocked orange. "Uh, yeah. Wouldn’t help reduce the taste problem. Might even make it worse for a little while. I doubt these flavors would mask the taste enough at the high potency levels."

"Taste is a short experience, which can be easily hastened if even a short experience is intolerable.”

“You mean if the taste is hard to swallow?” Wheejack winked.

Prowl optics slightly dimmed. “Yes. If you’re done with puns and if it’s safe, I’d like to have a cup.”

The engineer's fins light up happily again and he moved aside, gesturing for Prowl to take where he was standing. "By all means. Might taste a little funky because I've been testing the flavors and making sure it dispenses and mixes right. Not sure what flavor or flavors you're going to get. Call it the 'Mystery Flavor'? Every brand's got to have at least one of those."

"I don't know why you're thinking about brands but you won't be doing such with this. I'll take comfort in knowing there's worst mysteries out there than questionable flavoring." Prowl pulled out a cup and filled it. He slowly sipped it once, ignoring Wheeljack watching him with scientific inquiry. “This is sufficiently mystery flavored. Purely for my own planning, when do you think you'll have my request ready?"

"Ah, maybe when I finish my regular shift?”

"Thank you," Prowl acknowledged and headed to his quarters, datapad in one hand and tucked in the arm, while the other held the cup.

His quickening steps had him in his quarters before long and he settled down at his desk terminal. He started working on the datapads and after 2 reports on the first datapad were completely processed, he realized the third would require his tac-set directly interacting with it. He hardlined into the datapad, this time via a wrist port by the port connecting to the _Teletraan_ terminal. While he wated for the tac-set to churn through the raw data he took the moment to contact his brother. ::Smokescreen?::

::Hey,:: the diversionary tactician replied after a couple kliks delay.

::Would you be willing to have a working refuel break with me during our next shift?::

::Sure?::

::Are you uncertain because you haven’t looked at the schedule yet, or because you have other plans?::

::Firs’ un.::

::You’re doing short-distance patrols during your shift. You'll be able to return for break. Are you alright?::

::Yeah.::

::I’ve been meaning to ask you, what are your thoughts on Hound, Trailbreaker, and Beachcomber’s requests to build hybrid Earth-Cybertronian gardens?::

::Wha’?::

::Do you think we could ever harvest some of the Earth-Cybertronian plants to use it against the Decepticons? Perhaps as a tool, a weapon, or to distract them by “organic-affying” pieces of Cybertron?::

::Uh, yeah?::

Prowl recognized the pattern of short answers and Smokescreen’s lack of committal comments confirmed enough of his suspicions. [[Assess Smokescreen’s response times and pronunciation accuracies,]] he ordered.

[[User initiated action…]]

Prowl continued, ::Smokescreen, what are you doing?::

::Hangin’.::

::With who?::

::Twins.::

::Where at?::

::Their quar’ers.::

::And what are you doing in their quarters?::

::Things.::

::Which are…?:: Prowl prompted.

::The non-brothe’ly or non-boss kin’.::

[[Return: Tactician Smoksecreen's speech is 0.2919 kliks slower to respond than normal. Pronunciation of each work is 0.0822 kliks slower than normal, and 8.3911% less accurate than normal. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are currently on the construction volunteer list. Subroutine...]]

Prowl considered his options: give up his hopes to get work done and check the construction location himself, or get another officer to check. It was possible that the three of them were in the twins’ quarters, and Sideswipe and Sunstreaker forgot to remove their names from the roster. If they weren’t and if his suspicions on Smokescreen’s mannerisms were right, at the very minimum there would be automatic brig regardless of who discovered an inebriated Smokescreen (and others) at a construction spot.

He pinged Ironhide. ::Ironhide, are you willing to investigate an immediate issue?::

::Aw, Prowl. Can't a mech enjoy his downtime?::

::I’m sorry, but you’re the only officer I know to have time to investigate a matter. I believe there are at least one mech drinking, or having drank, high-grade while in the construction zone by the soldier quarters. I'm in the midst of downloading and converting data, but this warrants immediate investigation.::

:: _Pit_ there'll be no tolerance of that. I'm on it. If there are drunk slaggers bein' stupid in a hazard area, I'll take them straight to the brig by kicking them there by the aft.::

::If one is Smokescreen, please take in account that I need to speak to him on my shift.:: Prowl hastily requested when he heard muffled angry tones in the hallway. If he heard them, then Ironhide was probably quite loud beyond his doors. ' _Loud enough for Jazz to hear_.' Prowl detected a heightened increase in energy motion in his spark. He turned up the sensitivity on his doorwings to detect and notify him if/when Jazz appeared.

::Yeah, yeah. I won't beat his aft to the point he can't walk to your office later. Maybe with a limp, but he'll a-walk.::

Prowl closed the line and focused on making sure he finished processing as much as possible from the geological and structural team report before an interruption. His simulator was busy comparing the data analysis to schedules and layouts.

The tac-set was nearly 90% complete when his doorwings detected the silent change in air current movements around his emergency exit hatch. A solid presence moved through the hatch, disrupting the air current flow patterns. Prowl switched modes to safely disconnect without losing data while the solid presence moved more freely into his quarters.

"Hello, Jazz," Prowl greeted as he disconnected from the datapad, and rose. He reduced his doorwing sensors back to their normal off-duty levels.

"'Ello," replied his secret visitor. "Hide was cussing up a storm about stupidity. Your doing?"

"Technically Smokescreen's doing, but I did request Ironhide take care of it. I'm in the middle of some important calculations."

"Oh," Jazz replied with a twinge of disappointment. "So what does that mean?"

"Two things: Ironhide will actually return to his quarters long before you'd normally return to your quarters after recharging here, so you'll need to make a decision on whether to deal with that now or later; two, I need to complete this datapad before anything else. It needs to be available for review by several individuals upon the start of the primary shift."

Jazz glanced to the berth, to Prowl, to the hatch, and back. "Well, I was feeling the need for a Praxian snack, but I get that I'll have to keep my charge on ice for now. I still don’t want to recharge alone, 'though, even if it’s just having you in the same room. Is that cool?”

"That's acceptable. I'll join you when I can."

“Hopefully not too long,” Jazz commented as he looked over Prowl’s room, starting his security sweep.

The tac-set pinged Prowl. [[New AI initiated action, query-type: value of Officer Jazz's presence here, compared to work efficiency losses?]]

[[Go on standby,]] he commanded. Did he have some sort of accidental script that allowed it to initiate its own action now, without provocation or battle? A question to ask Ratchet later, in case there was something overlooked. They looked for bad or mutated code, but perhaps there was a third potential not purged.

To Jazz he inquired, “Are you intending to bring up the full security measures?”

“Not sure,” Jazz answered, biting his lip. “I did in my quarters while I was trying to relax but it’s kind of counterproductive. Relaxing in the most unrelaxed room. When I heard Hide I figured I’d come here. I would’ve come straight here, except I had to put everything back into normal security mode before leaving.”

“You waste a lot of time on these matters,” he murmured.

“Hey now,” Jazz protested. “You know this is important to me.”

Prowl winced. “I meant our current situation is forcing you to go through a lot of efforts to achieve a sense of security.”

Jazz haphazardly shrugged as he returned to inspecting the quarters. “Our options are, one: to go ‘public’ and see what insanity that brings, which I’m not sure how far-from-platonic fraternizing at the General Army Command level will be perceived; two: find some amazing defense why we need to be roommates; three: play music chairs but with quarters until ours end up next to each other; or four: get Hide to move without tipping him or anyone off that it's because we're being totally selfish.”

“Then let’s get Ironhide to move.”

The saboteur perked up. “Come again? I meant that to get more silly-stupid as I went down the list. Do I hear a plan forming that makes Option Number 4 not stupid?”

Prowl issued a command to get his tac-set out of standby, briefly pleased he was doing that and not it. [[Find a solution to get Ironhide to move out of his quarters. A solution that doesn’t have someone else moving into the quarters after he leaves.]]

[[User initiated action… return: Provide Officer Ironhide incentive to move and to suggest his quarters be used as a storage unit for localized movements, given the amount of construction going on.]]

' _At_ _least it's still using 'User' and 'Officer'. It probably is just an oversight_ ,' Prowl realized, and the tension in his forehelm relaxed.

"My tac-set suggests that the most logical conclusion is to get Ironhide to move and then use his quarters as a storage unit during all of this construction."

" _Oooh_ , interested," Jazz awed, pausing his sweeps and using the berth to sit cross-legged. "Given Hide's visitor count so he can tell his stories, he could use bigger quarters. Plus he has often enough mini-trips to investigate troop behaviors or weapon issues that I'm sure the old mech would appreciate a shorter walk. Hey, don't we have a giant storage area near the training area that runs along the walls with solvent piping and other sundries a mech needs for working quarters?"

Upon Prowl's command the AI immediately seeked and pulled up stored construction blueprints. "It's two medium-size storage areas that haven't been well maintained, but nothing irreparable and their shared wall is mostly for division. It's non-load-bearing and there's no crucial electrical or piping within it. The contents could easily be relocated, and the south-side wall does have all the connections he'd need."

"Plus enough wall space for him to mount more story artifacts and usable weapons or weapons stuff," Jazz noted.

"True. It'll also cut down on time wasted when he gets called to deal with some sort of training or weapon incident. He might be a bit miffed about being easier to call upon for other trouble, which I'm sure Red Alert will happily use to his full capability."

"We'll figure something out. Protocols or whatever. Strategic deployments of Ferno. How about we work it out over next shift break?"

"Unfortunately I've reserved that time to talk to Smokescreen. I'll have to talk to Ironhide prior to that since Smokescreen will probably realize I'm the one who sent Ironhide to investigate him just now. I'll work it into the conversation."

"You sicked Hide on Smokey? Tough love."

"He's been drinking and he's likely hanging around the 'suburbia sprawl zone.'"

"I don't think he's that reckless, but he could be down collecting or something."

"I don't think he's that reckless, either, but I can't ignore the possibility. I also can't take time out of my work." Prowl motioned at the datapads. "If that's - " Prowl stopped when he looked back at Jazz sitting on his berth. He remembered his earlier plans to ask Jazz if he recharged well after the SIC left for duty. His concerns about Jazz's talkativeness, now coupled with Jazz's admitted/observed activity since then, said there was definitely something of hidden trouble. While a smaller concern, he remembered how Jazz had a high multi-interfacing need after missions and Jazz's greeting further tipped him off that the mission's effects still lingered in the saboteur's systems.

' _Reports or Jazz, reports or Jazz_ ,' he debated. If he did the reports now he could dedicate more time to Jazz than a brief window, but would that be too late?

[[New AI initiated action... Recommend course of action: reports now. Proper assessing of reports now may allow more to be delegated later, which will open more time for later. Current matches between Officer Jazz and physiatrist databases indicated Officer Jazz will be able to maintain function for at least one more online cycle.]]

The offered plan was acceptable, so long as he added a few addendums. Jazz wouldn't have a bad recharge while he was within easy reach?

[[New AI initiated action... Chances of self-induced disruption to recharge for Jazz is 3.1860%, based on comparing the latest mission to missions that have caused problems for Jazz previously.]]

That sounded solid reasoning, but why did his spark and fuel tanks feel queasy about accepting it? He dismissed his concerns over the unpleasantness. "If that's all for the moment, I should to return to this. The sooner I complete this, the sooner I can recharge with you."

Jazz's visor dimmed. "Yeah, understood. Go ahead. I don't feel like going straight to recharge, yet, ya know?"

Prowl's spark upped its queasy-factor. His tac-set assured him that the statistics where there, compared to the missions that did get inside Jazz's helm. Numbers were more trustable than Prowl's unquantifiable and abstruse feelings.

Jazz continued, "I'll finish my sweeps and setting up as security as I can without it tripping because you're working and I'm awake. I'll probably need some quiet-time entertainment after I'm done. I think I left a recreational datapad here?"

"Yes, you did. It's in that drawer," Prowl pointed to a wall built-in shelving, second row, left side.

Prowl settled back into his desk and reestablished both hardlines while Jazz popped over to the drawer. Prowl almost was ready to restart when Jazz called out, "Is this my stuff?"

"It's everything you've left behind. For a mech who's very uptight about security and visitor safety, you sure leave a mess behind."

"There are 4 items! Plus this is a safe zone. Is this everything I've left behind?"

"Yes, that's the drawer I reserved for what you leave behind." He turned back around, datapad still in hand, watching Jazz inspect the drawer's contents.

[[Connection established. Recommendation: resume work on the datapad.]]

Prowl ignored it when he saw a soft lip lick and short smile as Jazz pulled out a Special Ops hand-sized box. The saboteur murmured, "I think I left this behind 2 mega-orns ago."

"Closer to three."

"It's been cleaned."

"Of course. I cleaned and made sure all of it is operating optimally."

"You never mentioned having these," Jazz pointed out, more with admiration than accusation.

"You never asked and none looked important to your duties. That one in your hand I believe is more of a training tool you've used to pass the time."

"Yup. A fun little puzzle with snapping blades and bug-bot hunting."

"Those words literally do not belong together," Prowl drawled.

He grinned. "Well, anyways. Thanks for taking care of my stuff. Perhaps I could leave a few more things in this drawer?"

"If we succeed with moving Ironhide it won't be necessary, but you may if you wish."

"Thanks," Jazz said.

The saboteur subspaced the tool/toy to finish securing the room and then returned to the berth. When Prowl finished the one report he paused everything and glanced at Jazz. He didn't know what a Special Ops puzzle did, but from the looks of it he wouldn't be trying. "Are you trying to get something out of there without cutting off your fingers?"

Jazz paused and rolled over, scooting across the berth until he was closer. He held it out. "It's got these hidden compartments. The goal is to get a little robot that moves around the hidden compartments, avoid damage, and find it quickly. There're other littler robots that do things to make it harder to find, like muffle noises or false trails."

Jazz turned it over in his hands, slowly playing with the blades. "I haven't done much with this in a long time. One of the reasons being the blade joints needed to be re-oiled. I noticed that the joints have been re-oiled."

"Of course. After I cleaned it - and got over my surprise of the blade that lost a fight with gravity - I lubricated the joints and tightened a few fasteners. I didn't see the little robots."

Jazz chortled. "Sorry about that. Without any new agents to train, I use these mostly to entertain myself for a breem or two in my own quarters. I guess last time I had this I got it in my helm that this was just like my place."

"... Ah."

Jazz tilted his helm at the Prowl's lack of response to the statement. He tried again, but from a different angle. "Do you know why you cleaned and repaired?"

"It was practical?"

Jazz chuckled. "Okay." When Jazz noted the distracted look setting into Prowl's optics once more, he decided to skip anymore talks about behavior Prowl didn't understand but endeared Jazz. "Tac-set?"

"Yes, I should resume work."

"You'll finish setting the last security items when you go into recharge, right?"

"Of course. Rest well, Jazz."

"Thanks." Jazz settled down, playing with the puzzle with faster fingers. "If I'm offline before you're done, then you rest well too."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of story flow, I’m putting this here: “critical recharge” threshold/point is the minimum amount of recharge necessary for an Autobot to be able to handle a surprise attack at the end of a hard orn’s work. Varies Bot-to-Bot. Below that threshold and their ability to handle the attack is compromised, possibly even gone.
> 
> Breem = 8.3 minutes.
> 
>  **Triggers:** Bad nightmare of previous wartime trauma, suicide refs (of others). The trauma isn’t particularly detailed because it’s too early in this fic to get that dark.
> 
> While not every not-fluffy piece in this fic gets steadily darker, its less-than-okay moments do creep into murkier territory. I’m working to match the details during those times to the overall tone of that set of chapters (or Arc, really depends on a few factors).
> 
> If readers want to see more about the traumatic memories then I can post it sometime as a separate work within the series. Either as a retold memory or in present time format.

About one joor into Jazz’s recharge, and an estimated 1.8529 joors from Prowl’s critical recharge threshold, the SIC’s doorwings were getting twitchy from irregular frequencies randomly assaulting his sensors. He saved his report, disconnected from his terminal, and just as his full attention returned to the real world to detach the datapad hardline connection he heard a bang and a sharp cry from Jazz. The noise instantly yanked him to face to his berth and see the beginning signs of defensive thrashing in a _supposed-to-be-recharging_ mech.

Prowl abandoned disconnecting the hardline and leaped up to get to Jazz before he hurt himself. He moved over Jazz, used his body to stop the swinging datapad from smacking Jazz while simultaneously blocking Jazz from striking himself. Jazz’s movements were rapidly escalating to frantically fighting against something made up of more than a pair of arms and legs. Prowl kept above him, blocking Jazz from hurting himself. The almost-clinically-detached part of his processor noticed the minor paint damage on Jazz’s hand, telling him what caused the bang.

The rest of his processor his concern was wholly centered on resolving Jazz’s immediate needs. This being the third nightmare since they started recharging regularly together, Prowl expected he could end it quickly. Instead Jazz was escalating, now hitting and clawing harder. So far it was nothing Prowl’s self-repair and touchup paint couldn’t handle, and the damage was discarded as a fleeting concern.

What Prowl knew in the case of an agent trying to fight off imagined violent capture was to minimize grabbing or pinning Jazz, or risk a confused Jazz coming online with battle protocols engaging faster than the misperception cleared. He needed to provide a sense of safety and surrealism to disrupt whatever was convincing Jazz he was truly under attack. From the distress in his cries Jazz was a badly losing the fight, making time even more pressing of a factor.

The bursts of energy that swelled into almost pounding flares in Prowl’s chassis weren’t helping his concentration, and he could feel the panic from it seeping into his processor. Worse than that was his tac-set’s continual suggestion of temporary incapacitating Jazz was worse. The stark comparison between the two reminded Prowl that his tac-set was ultimately a highly sophisticated battle computer and it put fast results above all else.

[[Go onto standby,]] he commanded. His tac-set was of no use and just distracting him with battle tactics in a very non-combat-relevant situation. He turned up the emotional filters as high as he could, until he felt only a trickle of panic. That didn’t help the chassis pain, but Prowl could ignore physical sensations effectively enough.

First he needed to find an inlet into Jazz’s nightmare, to convince the distraught mech that he was okay. Neither Jazz’s optics nor visor were online so nothing visually could be done. A hardline was out because of Jazz’s instincts to attack potential hacks.

‘ _Hacks. Non-consensual hardlines are signs of grave eminent danger_ ,’ Prowl latched onto that line of thought. He slipped his hand around Jazz’s wrist, by the saboteur’s main hardline port, forming an open V-shape between his digits. He used his thumb to gently caress around the armor protecting the port, keeping the touches as feather-light and non-threatening as he could while maintaining contact with the flailing appendage.

The first time Jazz had a bad memory disrupt his recharge it ended as quickly as Jazz’s elbow catching on the recharging Prowl’s chevron. Prowl’s role wasn’t stopping the nightmare but helping a confused and injured Jazz calm down. After trying to figure out how to get around explaining the bend in Prowl’s chevron and Jazz’s gouged elbow they used it as an opportunity for further conversing about quick tricks to calm agents. Back on Cybertron Jazz used a whistle with his teams, with a pitch and frequency imitating Polyhex’s industrial district guard shift changes. A whistling sound unique in times of war to Special Ops agents to say help was nearby, but not so unique in any Decepticon-controlled bases and cities to alert enemies.

Prowl did his best to imitate the whistle, having only practiced it at that time and now regretting dismissing its usefulness when it wasn’t needed the second time Jazz had a bad memory. After three tries the changes in Jazz’s reaction were minuscule.

No longer certain he was at least close to imitating the whistle correctly, Prowl tried what he knew: he searched the dangling datapad via hardline to find a regular maintenance report. He started reading it, his voice low and gradually increasing to a more normal tone. A low voice calmed an online and paranoid Jazz down, but what about a Jazz stuck in a true nightmare?

The panicking mech’s kicks lessened and the hand attached to wrist Prowl was caressing was curling and uncurling slower. However, none of it was fast enough for Prowl and one arm was still flailing. For all Prowl knew, Jazz’s mind was convinced his three limbs were pinned.

If Prowl himself wasn’t considered distraught before, he was now. If his way of reading a report to calm Jazz down wasn’t enough, perhaps doing it like Jazz did when trying to spice up office work. That _had_ to dispel the realism of the nightmare. He kept reading the report, but now using Jazz’s method of speaking with an awkwardly modified Praxian lullaby melody.

“Volll-canic dis-po-sal rates at the fiii-fth sta-aaa-tion…”

The whole ordeal was less than a half bream before Jazz’s movements slowed and finally a pale lighting illuminated from beneath the visor, but Prowl would swear differently. Jazz’s visor started onlining but then it went dark. Before Prowl could be alarmed about that oddity Jazz’s free hand snatched the visor and ripped it off so quickly Prowl wasn’t sure if it was physically damaged.

His spark’s energy constricted painfully tight at the sounds of Jazz gasping and all fans switching to max immediately, but Prowl didn’t react as his alertness was taken aback by Jazz’s optics. The half-prone mech’s crystal clear optics, softly tinted sky blue around the edges lacked a single flaw to obscure anything from Prowl’s sight. His inner lenses were wide, the mechanisms rapidly blinking and moving to find focus.

Mesmerized and concerned, Prowl leaned over a little so Jazz could see him. As soon as the mechanics within the optics stopped cycling and visually latched onto Prowl, Jazz was up and crashing into Prowl with a tight hold. Prowl flared his doorwings and brought his arms out to sides to counter the movement and his off-centered kneeling. Jazz’s frame heaved and his vents heavily cycled hot air and for a moment Prowl feared Jazz would cry. He had little almost no idea what to do now, and if Jazz cried Prowl would be absolutely out of any ideas.

Jazz’s optics remain liquid-free, but he buried them in Prowl’s shoulder so he couldn’t tell if they were calming down. Prowl left the decision to talk or move to Jazz, opting for trying to soothe him like he did for Bluestreak after Praxus fell. Those orns were beyond turbulent and one of the few times he truly experienced emotional pain, and he didn’t know what to do for himself or Bluestreak until the few survivors were grouped together. Watching them comfort each other reminded him of his adopted creators and he slowly massage between Bluestreak’s doorwings until he fell into recharge.

For Jazz he used one hand and followed the mech’s spinal strut, occasionally tracing a seam. A full breem past before Jazz’s vents calmed enough to almost be considered normal tempered air and the fans quieted. Nearly two more passed and Jazz’s full-body grip loosed enough for Jazz to reset his arms more comfortably around Prowl and then sag into the Praxian's body. Prowl’s doorwings flared again to better stabilize them, this time so Prowl could slowly lower them both backwards until he could sit, albeit with one legs still laying by Jazz’s side.

“S- Sorry…” Jazz said. “Just, ah…”

“It’s alright.” Prowl waited a few more kliks before his guilty question burned a hole through his lips. “Was the last mission worse than I realized?”

“Ah, no. Not exactly.” Jazz laughed, the tone hollow and disparaging. “This is just the first time you’ve witnessed a mission making a calling back to another one. A way, _way_ worse one. The one here was stressful, sure, but most of that wasn’t _so_ much because we were unexpectedly on our own; more like the near-misses and mistakes the Earth-ignorant agents made way too often reminded me of an old mission gone really wrong. Back before I got to be a part of Command. I mean, I knew it couldn’t go nearly as wrong because northern Canada hasn’t been captured and repurposed as a Decepticon torture base. But between my training team’s slips and one of the Canada ‘Con newbie spies looking a lot like one of the nasty ‘Cons from my past, I guess it was too much to keep trying ignoring.”

“Oh.” The following silence between the two of them was uncomfortable for Prowl, as he witnessed Jazz clearing his mind without expressing it beyond the shifting heavy weight buried into Prowl. The stoic mech’s spark had an icky sensation to it that Prowl was pretty certain qualified as unease.

“You can tell me, Jazz, especially if it’ll help you recharge again to work through whatever you’ve been ignoring.”

Jazz briefly squeezed Prowl. “Thanks, but that’s okay. It’s pretty dark, and the nasty past ‘Con was in a group with goals to become besties with Shockie.” Jazz laughed again, but there was just as little life to it as the last one.

“You told me I was probably the only one you could talk to about your demons without it haunting me.” Prowl carefully resettled himself comfortably around Jazz. If there were Decepticons pining to be seen fondly by Shockwave, then the story most certainly would be long and contain many demons. “If you really meant that you trusted me to be there for you, then please trust me when I say let me be there for you now.”

Jazz ex-vented hard, accompanied by an equally hard shudder. “I’ll tell you want I can. I can’t really dig into it all right now, ‘kay? It’s about the first time I was captured for longer than a few joors.”

“As much as you want to ‘dig’ is fine by me.”

Jazz started slow, telling Prowl about a recon mission long before Prowl had army-wide access to Special Operations. “One of our smaller bases near the Wilds had been attacked and captured. My team was essentially the only team available, unless you counted the completely fresh-outta-training boot camper agents. We were more like the ‘celebrate your fifth unlocked achievement’ agents. Not enough experience as a team to know how to call things out or adjust on the fly, but enough to be trusted on fast recon-only missions without a ranking agent handholding.

“The war-front offices for tactical and Spec Ops had photos from some of the cameras. Grainy photos, ‘cause most of the cameras were disabled or destroyed before they got close enough. A few of the far perimeter cameras were damaged but managed to transmit tiny bits of visuals before Decepticons finished them off.

“Offices ID’ed them as mostly normal brute force Decepticon soldiers, but also a few known berserkers. So they made plans on that. We got inside, easy-breezy enough, only to find out those in the offices identified the hostiles too fast. They weren’t berserkers; they were those Shockwave wannabe-pals with appearances that at a crappy photo one-over study resembled famed Decepticons. Since our plans called for getting around trigger-happy and punch-happy Decepticons, two of my teammates didn’t see the trap. They weren’t familiar with the area. They came from Iacon, of industrial districts and riches, respectively. They got nabbed. We remaining two got captured before we could escape for help.”

Jazz’s re-accounting of what happened from then until the next rescue team succeeded was bad enough that Prowl understood why Jazz felt only his emotion-mute companion could hear the story without cutting him off by needing a reprieve. Even so, a few details tasked Prowl’s well-rehearsed abilities to listen to the worst of black-marked missions.

“Whatever surviving Decepticons were left after the ‘Bots took back the base were hauled off to some dark prison or execution cell. The three of us were transported straight to an established actual medical facility instead of a tent, along with about twenty other mechs who suffered bad enough they couldn’t survive on tent medical berths. Iasty, was really torn up, but swore he’d be okay,” Jazz explained, using the nickname for agent’ from Iacon’s industrial districts.

He continued, “He kept saying he’d miss his teammate but no more than the rest of us. ‘What’s a truck-shipping yard mech got in common with a riches mech, just because of hailing from the same city-state?’ I always suspected they had something a bit more going on between them, but I brushed it off and took him at his word. I thought Iasty looked okay enough that his morale would bounce back after we got through treatment. Then one orn he was a bit sadder while we tried playing a board game. I don’t know what made that orn different, but Iasty said he feeling down and needed a break. Turns out you can use a fine detailing polish brush to go through the optic and skewer the CPU beyond repair, if you break the handle just right.”

“He committed suicide, over the one who didn’t survive?”

“He tried. They eventually had to declare him processor-dead and pull life-support.”

“I’m sorry,” Prowl replied, in part because he wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Not your fault.”

“That’s not what I’m sorry about. It’s that…” Prowl sighed, caught between not risking any burden to Jazz with his own problems and being a hypocrite. He told Jazz not to hide from him about the saboteur’s inner turmoil; he’d be worse than a liar if he did the complete opposite with Jazz’s full honesty and trust.

“I’ve had missions I planned where one or a few mechs came back counted as survivors, ended up no longer counting as survivors. I have the occasional one-off suicides, and about three small group suicides. I never figured out how to deal with that. It’s not like I could promise to try harder next time, because that meant I didn’t try as hard as I could the first time. In the very beginning I altered post-mission requirements to try and curb chances of survivor’s guilt becoming fatal, but there’s little Tactical can do when most physiatrists are killed and medics aren’t mentally so well themselves after all they've seen and treated. Eventually I just stopped reading reports about the situation because I didn't want to accept it as a fact of war since there wasn't a solution. I’m sorry about what happened to you, even if I my understanding is less about closeness to the lost and more about proximity.”

Jazz’s arms fondly tightened around Prowl and held him for a solid 15 kliks before relaxing. “Fatal survivor’s guilt is one of the worst, right after torturous demise and a handful of other hellish ways to go. I’m pretty sure Ratchet’s gone temporary insane a few times from saved patients do that.

“But it’s all the more reason to find a way to help the other bases. Give ‘Bots a chance to come here, where ‘harmless fun’ isn’t a foul phrase. I asked Smokey a while back to dig through some human books on matters for recovering from trauma, since I think most of our surviving documentation on the matter amount to little better than ‘suck it up and keep shooting forward.’ I haven’t asked him since, but I’ll ask him for an update next orn.”

“This orn,” Prowl corrected with a small frown. “It’s unfortunately that late.” He hadn’t noticed until Jazz mentioned it. There was also less than a joor until his critical recharge point.

Jazz groaned and slowly released Prowl, popping his locked joints but keeping his helm in Prowl’s shoulder. Prowl moved both of his arms for the first time since sitting and was suddenly reminded that he was still attached to a datapad. He fished for it with a swing of his wrist.

Jazz turned his head just enough to glance at the motion and saw the datapad. “Have you been working this whole time?” he teased, trying to shift the gloomy mood.

“Of course not. I put it on standby and so far... it’s been busy doing other things.” The tac-set had come out of standby early into Jazz’s story, processing the information Jazz unintentionally provided it to find a better solution. The worst part was the tac-set actually found a few without needing actual tactical data.

“Come again? Did _you_ forget to tell me something? How’s it on standby but doing things besides pinging you?” Jazz’s face shifted to look up from his optic corner.

“It’s nothing to be concerned about. The tac-set was pulling itself out of standby whenever something came up. During my meeting with Ratchet that detail came up, and so Ratchet turned it completely off to purge it of whatever it was that allowed it to ignore the safeguards in a non-emergency situation. That and a few odd readings had him concerned. So far his other concerns seem to be resolved, but since then it’s come out of standby a few times. I gather there’s some safeguard rule-except he missed. I’ll speak to him or another in Medbay about it later.”

Prowl hesitated but ultimately decided to leave out what happened during the 5 breems his tac-set was off, as well as the other details of why he choice to let Ratchet try. Whether or not this was the time to tell he wasn’t sure, but time was short and Jazz was likely completely mentally and emotionally overtaxed.

“Okay, for future reference: you go to Medbay, you tell me. Especially over that tac-set and it behaving strange. It tried to fry my mind when I hacked it. While I appreciate its planning and battle capabilities, it now is a bit of a freaky entity to me.” Jazz softly tapped the side of Prowl’s helm housing the tac-set. “Promise?”

“I promise, barring the new meetings I’ll be having with Ratchet over staffing.”

“I take it your meeting with him went otherwise well? I figured since I didn’t get a comm. from you, it went well enough.”

“It did, pardoning that I now have one more regular meeting.”

“So is that’s what’s on the pad?”

Prowl glanced at the datapad in his hand but an object on the floor just beyond his peripheral vision redirected his attention. Jazz’s abandoned visor. He didn’t see damage to it, yet there were faint discolorations from bending the edges in the wrong direction. “No, just regular reports. Why did you throw your visor?”

Jazz pulled his face out of Prowl’s shoulder and neck crevice, scrubbing his face with fingers spread from the inner corners of his optics to the visor attachment points. “Remember how I said they liked feeding shock images while cleaning or replacing their tools? Like they were building a resume reel they wanted to send Shock. Well, with me one of them wanted to hack it onto my visor. It took a while but he succeeded. Said he liked that my optics had enough clarity in them to see what I really felt. After that I made sure all of my visors weren’t see through, even if a mech was pressed up against it.”

“So you toss your visor because you were seeing those images playing on it when you came online?”

Jazz half-shrugged. “Yeah, I was confused. It felt like I was back there, it looked like I was back there. It just didn’t sound like I was back there. I heard off-key whistling a couple of times, and then I kept hearing the weirdest report debrief on volcano slurry disposal.” This time Jazz fixated on the datapad. “Wait a klik, were you reading – no, _singing_ – me a report?”

Prowl’s face and hands suddenly didn’t have enough coolant, if the sharp increase in heat was an indicator. “I tried the whistle you taught me for your mission help signal. That didn’t immediately work and I thought perhaps I wasn’t doing it right, so I read you the report.”

Jazz’s optics shifted and stared into Prowl’s optics. The tactician further confessed when those optics looked straight into his, “I tried to read it like you do when you’re claiming to add Jazz-flavoring to boring office work.” Those optics were a tad unnerving. He wasn't used to looking into optics that held a piercing intelligence, a knowing inquisitiveness, and a vulnerability long considered non-existent from a consuming war.

The outer corners of those optics turned upward, and Jazz chuckled. "You sung me a maintenance report?"

"More like spoke in a rhythmic manner I'll never repeat outside of private quarters, and for the exclusive purposes of disrupting the nightmare's illusions."

“Hah. What rhythm? I’m curious because now I _have to_ place the tune.”

“I doubt you’ve heard it. It’s from an old lullaby our creators used to calm an upset creation.”

“Really?” Jazz grinned. “Can I hear it?”

“Perhaps another time, when I’m not tired and have a chance to not sound so off-tune.”

Jazz giggled, for once a laugh without a hint of gloom. “Maybe next recharge cycle?”

“If you teach me the whistle, I’ll teach you the song. From your description of coming online, it sounds like I didn’t do it very well.”

More light laughter, but this time not as weary-free as the last. "It was close. Maybe later I can teach you not just the whistle but some other tricks. Definitely at least how to hold a tune better, especially if you're going to be sing-talking your reports."

Prowl grumbled, "I'm not going to dignify the latter with a response. At least tell me this: did you feel me rubbing your wrist?"

Jazz's optic ridges furrowed and he looked at the wrist Prowl was touching earlier. "By this port, yeah?" After Prowl nodded Jazz softly traced the lines Prowl had drawn. "I did and it helped a little, but it wasn't as easy to notice as a sign of hallucinations as a singing volcanic slurry report. This is growing the list a bit, but maybe we can use the idea and later come up with a secret signal, especially in case silent signals are the only option?”

"We can try. Are you ready to go to recharge?"

Jazz hesitated before settling his optics on Prowl's clutched datapad. "Are you going to work some more?"

The tac-set pinged its readiness. "Are you going to recharge?" Prowl repeated.

"Are you going to work some more?"

Prowl rubbed his nasal bridge. He didn't ask the direct question but the indirect one. "When I left your quarters before you were in recharge. How well did you recharge?"

Jazz's optics shifted away. "Didn't, not really. I thought I'd be okay and I was at first. Was probably in the first stages of recharge when it felt like something touched my neck. I onlined, thought maybe it was you, and realized it was no one. I didn't trust going back to recharge, so I had a shot of high-grade and watched TV."

"You were _drinking_ right before your shift?!"

"Hardly! Just enough to calm my neuronet, and joors before I 'clocked' on."

"That doesn’t make it alright. Even so, whether or not you succeeded in calming your neuronet, you were talking in a capacity that could match Bluestreak."

"Slander! Kidding." Jazz dismissed and sat straighter. "Drinking’s not a solution I use, but going to the Officers Training Room to pull up some rec sims wasn't an option because I didn't want to run into anyone on my way over there. I don’t like being around silence when something’s bugging me, like say maddening memories trying to finish playing out. Unless I’m hanging with Blaster or someone who can talk like Blue, I tend to make up the difference with either my speakers or my vocalizer.”

"I wouldn’t mind listening to you speak like Bluestreak to keep something like this from happening again. We’ll just have to build a system where work can be done but you can safely work through those ‘maddening memories.’ Letting your problems get to the point where I tried something as strange as – what did you call it, sing-talking? – a report was too far.” Prowl deliberately ignored mentioning the minor injuries to his forearms. He considered it more damaging mentioning it than the actual damage. “But you can't have any high-grade now to recharge or relax. It’s far too close to our shifts."

"Obviously. I’ll be seeing Raj and he’ll know if I’ve had high-grade while I cajole him into attending the debrief meeting to answer questions."

"I really hope that’s not your sole reasoning for not drinking before your shift. Regardless, are you going to recharge?" Prowl inquired once more.

"Yeah, I think I'll be okay," Jazz brushed off. "You going back to the desk to finish some work? Maybe you could finish in the berth and I could load it up to _Teletraan_ while you shower? It'd be nice to have something solid and with doorwings sensors. Plus we can finish setting the other security alerts."

Prowl looked at Jazz's flickering optics as they glanced between him and along the berth. His tac-set said to seize the option and allow Jazz to recharge while he worked from the berth. His reasoning for finishing the reports before Jazz’s nightmare remained much the same, with only Jazz’s mental stability more in question than before; however, If a key difference is Prowl's physical proximity, then Jazz should be okay if Prowl works next to the recharging agent.

Those optics, though, belied Prowl’s confidence in his tac-set’s logic. The lens and mechanisms started moving again, similar to when Jazz first came out of the nightmare but at a less intense pace. It looked as if they were unable to settle despite the unchanging low ambient lighting and lack of surrounding movement. Did Jazz have some optic problem that never made itself known to Prowl? Whatever it was, it made Prowl feel abnormal. His chassis was tight and his frame kept tingling every time they focused on him, for reasons Prowl could only vaguely surmise.

' _Recharge with_ _Jazz now, or keep finishing reports so later we can really talk and spend time together later..._ ' Changing a logical workload attack plan over unsettling vulnerable optics was practically anti-strategic. And yet…

“Let’s finish setting those security device and then let’s get some recharge together.”

Jazz’s smile made the tightness in Prowl’s chassis relax until it flowed into dissipation, and he realized he didn’t mind choosing the anti-strategic choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) This chapter and the 1st half of chapter 1 basically ARE Jazz’s half in the fic summary bit about them needing each other to handle their private instabilities, so I wanted to post it sooner than later. Prowl’s main equivalent chapter is many chapters away, because buildup.
> 
> 2) Also, another hint here on what was running through Ratchet’s mind in “Emotions” when he just about lost his mind. I know that part being told through 1st POV from another ‘Bot (Jazz) caused some readers confusion.
> 
>  
> 
> 3) I am not good at songs, so if anyone interested in helping me figure out the Praxian lullaby, I would very much appreciate the help. :)
> 
>    
> 4) FYI, for authors, artists, other, or people considering trying out creating something in fandom: the PJ Community Annual Challenge is now open for prompt submittal, through 8/31. So far the prompts look fun. It’s about clichés, so if you’re considering trying something like writing, designing, or photographing but aren’t sure how to build content, the prompt should be a strong start.
> 
> See [this LJ post for prompt submission guidelines](http://prowlxjazz.livejournal.com/959854.html) for submitting on LJ directly or on AO3. Includes the link to the AO3 Prompt Memes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay; life surprised me.
> 
> The visor switching idea came from IDW, when Jazz is sneaking onto a base wearing an emerald green visor.
> 
> TBD = To Be Determined
> 
> I deliberately wrote the reference to Ratchet's partner(s) as vague as I could so readers can insert their own preference. Part of the reason being there's so many Ratchet ships out there. Only requirement is that it must be someone actually on the Ark. Other than that, unless there's enough of a call for specific ships (including others relationships tagged "implied"), I'm going for letting readers use their preferred ships.

Jazz onlined first, everything a bit off. First he realized he was curled up in Prowl’s arms, legs tangled. The tangled legs was normal, but general he didn’t _curl up_ and Prowl’s physical contact was minimal beyond the legs. Waking to Prowl’s chassis filling his vision was unexpected, as was the following realization that he was seeing Prowl’s paint in way too much detail. Not the detail of being face-pressed into a mech, but the detail of his optics unobstructed.

No HUD texts or targeting markers marred a clear field of vision. The other surprise was all the visible color and extremely detailed shadow/light contrasts. Prowl’s paint job may have been black and white, but with the sensitivity of Jazz’s optics unobstructed by a visor, he could easily see the small shade differences from steady long-term use of touch up paint application instead of a solid new coat. He could also see the contrasting outlines of Prowl’s remaining scars far more easily.

Polyhexian optics for sparklings originating from the artisan districts were clearer than the average mech so they could take in more colors and light. Combined with sensitive audial horns, it made for a colorful and lively sparklinghood. Eventually most Polyhexians with that optic type got visors to cut out adult distractions, or to further enhance their artistic nature. In Jazz’s case, his first visor was tailored to showing music lines.

Since then, the nature of his visors changed and they started staying on longer, until they became necessary for almost all aspects of his life. Now the longest his face was visor-free was during visor switching or medical checks, the latter often with medical equipment shinning in his optics.

The lack of visor felt disturbingly naked and made his face prickly. He remembered picking his visor off the floor and setting it on a small shelf, too shook up to wear it. He wriggled away from Prowl’s arms intending on fetching the visor, grinning as the muffled grunts of a very tired mech not wanting to care enough to online. His smiled fell as soon as he saw scratches in Prowl’s arms, and bruised paint nanites. The scratches weren’t deeper than the first layers of metal and would easily heal, but Jazz knew those weren’t there before the saboteur went to recharge the first time.

“Prowler,” he whispered, “you awake? You better be, or else you didn’t set your doorwing sensors as high as you said.”

More grunting. “Wake in 1.5...three…”

Prowl’s response waned, not able to stay online enough to finish the number. Jazz checked his chronometer and realized Prowl meant he didn’t need to be up for 1.5 more joors.

Apologizes could wait that long. Prowl was clearly more tired that Jazz thought if he couldn’t finish a sentence. Jazz finished wriggling away to grab his visor. He inspected it closer and reconfirmed that the hookup points were fine, that only the surrounding material had been stressed enough for visual detection. He’d switch this visor out for another one later and have the damage repaired. At least he managed to have enough sense in him when he onlined to execute the _disengage_ commands to the visor interface before almost tearing it out.

He carefully reconnected it and allowed it time to properly run through functional checks, least he find out he was wrong. While it did that he moved back into Prowl’s arms, content with claiming the same new recharge position within his safety net.

 

||||

 

This time they both onlined together to their internal alarms, but only one’s optics and visor powered up. Jazz squeezed Prowl’s leg in between his. “Staying online this time?”

The response was still sleepy. “Duty calls for it.”

“Usually does. If I knew how to fake desk duty while recharging I’d tell you my secrets. Maybe. What’s your plans for this orn?”

"Reports, the planned working refuel with Smokescreen to delegate some of the workload, mission debrief, and then when Trailbreaker starts his shift I’ll meet with him to first go over what I want to delegate to him,” he listed.

"Good luck with delegating to Smokey. You did send Hide to bite his aft. Smokey might be holding a bit of a grudge."

"I did it for his safety." Prowl’s optics sluggishly powered on.

"You did it for the convenience of your reports, and maybe of the convenience of this.” Jazz wiggled his fingers between the pair. “If it truly was for brotherly love and safety, you’d have gone yourself," Jazz argued, carefully keeping his body language and voice friendly. "Just so you know what he might say."

Prowl still defended, "I was in the midst of working a highly important datapad and couldn't take the time. If Smokescreen takes on some of my work, I may not have to request others to fetch him."

"Good luck winning with that argument."

Prowl raised an optic ridge. "It's logical and ultimately benefits him."

"I stand by my last statement: good luck winning with that argument."

"Alright, what would you say?"

Jazz rolled onto his back, looking up at the ceiling and imagined the conversation a few times. "Don't sound like you're blaming or accusing him. Even if he was blindly overcharge next to dangerous equipment, it won't help you any to point that out. I'm sure Hide would take care of him if it's anything that bad. Wait, do you know how bad?"

"No. I intend to talk to Ironhide first so I will by then."

"Okay, so try dropping the Enforcer and Big Brother act. Chat like family before you ask for help."

“He’s the older brother.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean by Big Brother act. I know Smokey and Blue have both said it _to_ you and _about_ you.”

‘ _It’s not an act_ ,’ Prowl rebutted. Given the topic, there was no point in arguing Prowl would always have the mentality of an Enforcer, Head of Tactical, and SIC. "So during this ‘chat like family’, perhaps I should ask if he needs help? If he really was doing something foolish like drinking around a hazardous area."

Jazz rolled his helm back to Prowl. "Not unless you see some red flags. Otherwise you'll put him on the defensive. How about you ask him if he’s got hots for anyone. What’s his plans for when he’s off-duty? Is he still thinking about throwing that party you heard some ‘Bots mention a bit back?”

“I didn’t hear that.”

“I did, and now you’ve heard it from me. You really don’t ask much about their free time plans?”

“Bluestreak I do at times when I’m prepared to listen to the detailed plans, but Smokescreen’s activities are not always something we can talk about. We both used to try at least a little. There’s only so much carefully guarded exchanged words to be had when my roles have always been about enforcing laws and regulations, and at least half of his time is dedicated to anything but that. We’ve since come to an understanding that I don’t ask and he doesn’t tell, with few exceptions.”

“Never easy, huh?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘never’, but I believe some live by the motto ‘family isn’t easy,’ and ours is no exception.”

“True for some, and I guess your family’s mash up reads a bit like a sitcom.”

“What?”

His answer was a cocky grin. “Maybe off-duty we can watch something and see if you get the idea? Maybe back in my quarters? I can move my portable entertainment into the washracks.”

“Why on Earth and Cybertron would you do that?”

Jazz’s grin faltered but he caught himself before it became a grimace. “You need a new paintjob. I can grab paint nanites, polish, and the works to set up shop in my washracks.”

Prowl looked himself over before remembering the scratches on his arm. He pulled his arms up so the scratched forearms were better visible.

Jazz murmured, “Yeah, those. And I noticed you could use a fresh paint job all around. Some of your touch ups aren’t as matching as I thought. But mostly those.” Jazz reached out and softly grasped Prowl’s elbows, tugging Prowl’s forearms into his chassis. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“There’s no need to be sorry,” Prowl dismissed. “The damage is superficial and completely accidental.” If anything needed to stop hurting, it was that twist in his spark. That hadn’t gone entirely away since Jazz’s nightmare since it probably only happened because Prowl put connecting to his terminal to fully process and file reports above Jazz’s needs, despite the several major signs that not all was right with the mech.

“I’m still not going to shrug it off,” Jazz argued, hating seeing the damage.

“I refuse to hold you to anything about it,” Prowl argued back, not letting that twist in his spark get worse.

“You’re not holding me to anything, I’m _insisting_.”

“I don’t want you to think you have to insist. I’m a fully-capable mech, able to repair accidental damage in easily accessible places. You may have a fuller workload after the meeting, and you don’t need to try and balance that with fitting a repainting in your schedule.”

“Hey, I’m damn skilled at schedule manipulation.” Jazz pulled Prowl’s arms closer, folding his arms around Prowl’s and effectively pinning them to the saboteur’s chassis. “I’m not letting go of these arms until you give into my insistence, as a fully-capable mech who wants to undo what he did. _And_ repaint the rest of your fame. You want these arms back, you have to agree to let me paint you before the end of our orn.”

Prowl tugged his arms back, only succeeding in pulling Jazz with him.

“Nope,” the Polyhexian remarked.

Again Prowl huffed, and his engine revved. “Fine, but only if you let me do something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know yet,” Prowl admitted, “but I’ll find something.” Something that’ll undo that unpleasant spark-feel.

“Okay, so we’re agreed: you’ll come by my quarters later for painting, and you’ll something-TBD at a date-TBD.”

“Yes. Agreed. Now may I have my arms back?”

Jazz kissed the tops of Prowl’s hands and then let go. “I’ll get the equipment and just say I convinced you to update your paint if we did so privately.”

Prowl tucked his arms into his sides, more to hide the evidence than keep Jazz from capturing them again. ‘ _I’ll be doing that for the rest of my shift. At least few see me… in my office… except I have more meetings than normal this orn, of all orns._ ’

Jazz asked, “So there’s no need to wash before shift now that we’ve got plans for later, what should we do now?” He grinned and licked his lips playfully.

“I know what you’re thinking, and if anything that would cause a need to wash and thereby defeat your plans. I’ll need to paint these scratches with at least one coat. Between meeting with Ironhide, meeting with Smokescreen, the debrief meeting, and then meeting with Trailbreaker, I doubt I can completely hide them or properly explain them away,” Prowl hesitantly explained.

Jazz’s optics narrowed, his face pinched. “I’ll do it. Where’s your repair kit and paint?”

Prowl pushed his arms behind him. “No, _I’ll_ do it. You relax and watch something that’ll help before the meeting.”

Jazz tried reaching Prowl’s outermost arm but the Praxian rolled backwards, half off the berth. “I can do both, relaxing and watching; repairing and painting.”

He still refused by just further rolling away, trying to untangle his legs without accidently pushing himself off the berth. “I’m going to get up, go to my washracks, and lock the door unless you promise to stay here and relax.”

The Polyhexian emitted a low growl and an engine rev. There was no way he was going to sit on a chair and watch TV like nothing happened, all the while Prowl holed himself up to repair the damage he’d done. Jazz twisted his legs free and extended the topside one until his knee grazed Prowl’s interface cover. When Prowl involuntarily jerked forward Jazz extended the same leg to use his ped to pet the doorwing’s bottom edge, now within reach.

“Cheat!” Prowl gasped. He pulled further away only to suddenly realize he was slipping downward. His hands shot out to grab the berth before he landed on a doorwing.

Jazz anticipated the fall. He reached out and snatched Prowl’s hands and rolled down with him, the leg previously molesting the doorwing landing on the floor and the other one kneeling, the lower leg loosely wrapped around Prowl’s thigh. He held Prowl’s upper half up, keeping Prowl from harm. He smirked at the stunned mech. “As always, the more agile and adaptable mech wins. I captured your arms again, so they’re mine to decide what to do. We’re going to sit down on the chairs – you seriously need to get a couch – and I’m going to take care of these scratches while we watch something.”

Prowl huffed and sagged backwards when his tac-set popped up a notification about energy levels and the projected losses if this kept up. “I don’t have the energy to fight you this early into the orn, but I do have the mindset.” He wagged his finger in warning. “Don’t try getting smart.”

“Don’t worry, I’m plenty confident in my intelligence that I don’t need to _get_ smart.” His smirk doubled as he pulled Prowl up. “Now, you get the repair kit and paint kit, I’ll pick something short to watch.”

Prowl muttered about Jazz’s idea of intelligence didn’t necessarily mean smart as he fetched the kits. Jazz pushed the chairs into place, mentally running through the list of what he left preloaded on Prowl’s systems. Prowl’s personal entertainment recorders were either not short enough or not entertaining. ‘ _Then again, I don’t want Prowl to be difficult about this, so I guess I better pick something from his list._ ’

Prowl placed the kits on the modular table, opening them each up. He pulled out the repair material that kept paint from interfering with plating mesh healing and a bottle of white touchup. He crinkled his optic ridges as he studied the label closely. “What did you mean by my touchup paint not matching? This is white, shade #255-F6.”

“Hate to break it to you, but either you’ve had bad bottles or that shade color isn’t nearly as locked in as you think. Now sit, the video is coming up.”

“Is this one of your sitcoms?”

“Nah, maybe later. This is one of the sections of your Earth military strategy histories. The one you and I were watching some mega-orns ago. I figured I’d restart it where I last remembered.”

Prowl angled his body straight at Jazz but his arms were loose in his lap instead of on the table. Curiosity got his attention first and his helm was turned to the screen. “Ah yes, Zhuge Liang. Granted I’m Cybertronian tactician and not a feudal-istic era human tactician, but I still consider some of the success stories associated at him interesting. Such as the story coming on now, known as ‘Empty Fort Strategy.’ I cannot believe…”

Prowl started going on about what the video’s topic, talking over it or adding his points. Jazz softly smiled as he made sure the paint nanites and mesh-plating protection were properly mixed for consistent application. It shouldn’t be a problem with nanites, but Jazz questioned the age and care of the bottles, if maybe the reason Prowl’s paint was off a little was because of neglected paint supplies.

He leaned over the table and guided Prowl’s arm onto the table, palm up. Prowl glanced at him and opened his mouth to protest having his arm held, only to be interrupted by the narrator’s voice pick up. Prowl returned to commenting on the video. Jazz was completely forgotten as Prowl snarked about the lack of alternative plans devised by the other army’s leader.

The plan worked, going exactly as Jazz suspected. In building a comfort level with Prowl beyond their previous non-physical relationship status, he found out Prowl was the worst to be around when watching anything tactical or strategic, if one cared about the video. In private, the mech could _not_ stop pointing out practicality, the story’s time period, realistic portrayals, praise or condemnation for opportunities of that environment and time, known missed considerations, the lack of coverage on what made the person(s) pick a particular plan over other plans, and so forth.

If the movie/show was primarily a social commentary, Prowl’s face had a glazed over look and he rarely verbalized any thoughts about it. A few times Jazz caught him sneaking a hardlined datapad between Jazz’s couch cushions. Yet, if it had enough military or tactical involved then Prowl could almost be mistaken as someone who should never go to movie theaters. Perhaps the consequence of Prowl getting comfortable around him was Prowl not silencing himself so much, disinterested in making any personal connection with others. Jazz smiled some more at the memories.

The visored mech grabbed the small brush and dipped it into the repair bottle. His other hand applied just enough pressure on Prowl’s hand to keep it firmly in place.

“If someone on my team behaved like Sima Yi did during this so-called ‘attack’, I’d have demoted him and send him back to training. He didn’t even fake a retreat and have scouts double back to see what Liang was hiding beyond his gates. He just assumed he knew the nature of what Liang was hiding and completely ran away,” Prowl continued, not pausing when the liquid was applied.

This went on while Jazz carefully applied it to one arm and then the other, able to pull it from Prowl’s lap without fuss. Jazz kept the budding guilt at bay by focusing on the ultimate positive outcomes of this for both of them. Prowl’s injuries were minor and this really was a reminder to have a serious discussion about these episodes before injuries needed medical intervention. Prowl’s lack of negative response was reassuring that he could handle Jazz at his worst, when he needed support the most. Jazz never wanted Prowl to see him at his worst, and he still hadn’t, but Jazz didn’t have the luxury of promising to never let that happen. If sometime while their relationship was more than professional Jazz ever got captured, but one way or another he came back, Prowl would see him at his worst.

Jazz finished two coats of paint just in time for Prowl’s schedule dictate his next moves. “Done, it’s all dry.”

Prowl stopped in mid-explanation and turned to his arms for inspections. Peering closely, he examined the faint lines, resulting from the lack of equal number of coats to the surrounding paint. “It should pass well enough. My preference for personal space exceeding arms-length will automatically keep anyone but Bluestreak from getting close enough to notice.”

“Him and Ratchet,” Jazz agreed as he resealed the containers. “During the mission debrief, try not to gesture towards screens or anyone. You _know_ he’ll see it no matter how far away he’s sitting.”

“Very true. Bluestreak is scheduled for monitor duty this shift, so it’ll be easy to avoid him. We should be fine. It’s highly unlikely we’ll need to craft the perfect cover story like the time when my chevron was bent and your elbow was gouged.”

“Yeah, I’d like to avoid the whole ‘blame Jazz for dancing around a blind corner while Prowl’s helm was bowed because he was looking down at his reports while walking around the same corner’. So much awkward mocking by the officers and medbay.”

“Just be happy Red didn’t cry ‘traitor’ when you claimed deleting the footage to save face.”

“Or that he didn’t have such a fit to get Ratchet riled up and chew me out.”

Prowl’s chronometer alerted him to needing to leave for his shift very soon. “Time for me to head to my office. What’s your plans?”

“I can hang back until Hide’s gone, then go back to my quarters. I’ll put the kits away while I wait.” He glanced at the screen, still playing. ‘ _Perhaps I’ll watch this a little so I know what you’re criticizing. Maybe find something I can play devil’s advocate for fun another orn and get your gears revved up.’_

“Alright.” Prowl fetched his two datapads, tucking one into his side so it laid over the fresh paint, while holding the other to read so it did the same. “See you at the debrief.”

“Yup. Take care until then. Remember: be a brother, not Big Brother.”

Prowl nodded and exited, pivoting into the hall to face the exiting path when he found a mass right almost in front of him. “Ironhide,” he fumbled.

Ironhide snorted at him. “Startled you, did I?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to be out and about at this time.”

“I’m leaving to get Smoke out of the brig. I figure a talking-to is in order instead of sending someone to let him out.”

“So he was around dangerous equipment?"

"No, he wasn't in any danger. He was actually on the right side of the zone line, but as close as he could get.”

“Did he say why?”

“Nah, and neither did the twins. When I was walking Smoke back to the brig, Blue came by. Gave Smoke a dirty look and didn’t say anything. Smoke was sulking even more after that, so I’m guessing Blue knows. I figured if it’s a fam’ thing, you should talk to them instead of me butting in.”

"Thank you. Will you come by my office after you speak to Smokescreen? I have him scheduled to visit me during my refuel break." Prowl actually had different intentions than just speaking about Smokescreen, but it’d behoove of him to find out additional details.

“That’ll be fun. Sure, I’ll swing by on my way to say hi to Prime. But then I’m out until it’s debrief meeting time. It is my vacation time.”

“You were scheduled for an off-duty three-orn break in duties, not a vacation.” Prowl wasn’t trying to be impolite, but Ironhide’s statement seemed inaccurate. “Otherwise you’d have taken that trip you’ve been talking about.”

Ironhide snorted at him again, aware that Prowl likely didn’t realize his rudeness. “This is as close to a vacation as I’m getting until we get more ‘Bots here to kick aft. No ‘duty-free orn’ breaks with an asterisk. Trust me, I’m looking forward to having a vacation where if something happens there’ll actually be enough officer coverage to deal with it.”

A couple of ped steps later Ironhide split off, heading toward the brig. Prowl focused on his work, per usual, as he made his way to his to the Officers Rec Room.

"Hi, Prowl!"

Prowl entered the Officers Rec room and noted Inferno alone and holding one sealed energon cube, while finishing a second. "Good morning, Inferno."

"Here," the security mech said with an offer of the sealed cube.

Prowl took an obliged sip. "Thank you. Are you collecting for you and Red Alert?"

"Yup. As usual he started just before the shift change." Inferno finished his cube and grabbed a third to replace the one he gave away. "Think I'm spoiling him. He's gotten too use to me bringing him energon. He keeps starting his shifts earlier and leaving later. Ah well. Worse things than making sure a workaholic stays fueled."

Prowl opted for a silent response, knowing he was classified as a workaholic, offering only a half-nod as way of acknowledging Inferno's conversation. He sipped the energon once more and then moved to coffee.

"At least you get your own energon about half the time," Inferno continued when the energon reached the half-full mark. "And Jazz often remedies the other half."

"Sorry?" Prowl asked as his spark stopped spinning for a split-klik.

"I see Jazz walking around with 2 cubes plenty, and everyone knows he harps on you to keep yourself better cared. Kinda like what I'm doing now to Red." Inferno finished the last cube and held both up as an example.

"So do my brothers, when they're working a different shift or out enjoying a duty-free orn," Prowl offered, willing his voice to stay level after he noticed an increased pitch. "Did Wheeljack leave me a note?" He added, quickly seeing his name on a sloppily-written note stuck to a device attached to the Coff-E dispenser that Prowl hadn't seen when he was last in the vicinity.

"Didn't notice. I heard Jack tinkered with that to make it taste better, but I figure it's best to wait out others trying it first. 'Cause you know that if I like it, then Red'll want to try it. There's a few mechs I'd like to see try it first since their reaction is probably a lot closer to what Red's would be than mine."

Prowl plucked the note free. Signed by Wheeljack, it read, "Prowl, I thought about how you were working late and I figured you'd probably need a max dose before the debrief. I put a couple of max doses in this box and added a bypass if you push the – ,” a set of squiggly-looking set of lines with some crossing, “ – button. Push and hold. Beware, it smells and probably tastes something fiercely awful since it also bypasses all flavor corrections for now. DO NOT take more than one test cup every four hours, unless you really wanna repeat that special jump-scare moment you, me, and Ratchet once had."

Prowl instantly deciphered Jack's hidden meaning by recalling the incident where Prowl's sudden panicked reaction from Wheeljack's questionable testing methods left Ratchet angry and almost short half a finger. More than one cup and Prowl might find himself highly agitated and anxious, and likely needing medical interference for both himself and a cursed Wheeljack.

“What’s _that_ ,” Inferno started, peering over Prowl’s shoulder, “a bacon button?”

“What’s bacon?”

“Human food.”

“Then it’s clearly not a bacon button. It’s a… a…” Prowl looked for the actual button. “Button to release hot air exhaust?”

“Huh. Maybe that stuff is extra heated with the exhaust air from a dispenser motor, or something. Or it could be just the closest spare button and it doesn’t mean anything.”

Prowl stared at the button. “I’m just not going to think about it. Wheeljack knows to not risk incapacitating the head of Tactical right before a mission debrief.”

He set aside his datapads and regular energon cube to grab a cup. He placed it under the dispenser and slowly pushed the button. An ugly churning sound rewarded him and he contemplated reneging on his plans. He almost released the button when the noise morphed into chugging and a blackened, char-like energon pumped out, heat billowing in his direction. The Coff-E was liquid and its consistency was well mixed, but that was small comfort.

"Ewww," Inferno said from behind Prowl's shoulder. "That smells like a well-used but never cleaned smelter."

"Indeed." Prowl put the cup down by his items and applied a seal. He resealed his partially-consumed cube. "Something I'll work up the courage on my way to my office. I wish you and Red Alert a good shift."

"You too."

Prowl made his way to his office, using his wings to navigate him as he watched his full hands to make sure nothing dropped. He reached his office without disruption and finished drinking his regular energon as he went through his shift-start routine. Prowl connected himself, the only one datapad he managed to finish, and the terminal all together.

[[User initiated action…]] his tac-set started as soon as he issued a command identical to his last shift start. [[Results…]]

Prowl requested from his terminal that all work from before Jazz's nightmare was verified as properly uploaded. He used the few kliks to stare at the sealed cup. Despite going to recharge sooner than he planned, he was tired. Jazz’s episode had his energon pumping harder, and he didn’t get so much extra recharge to offset the exhaustion from the fear of not having a plan to get Jazz out of the nightmare.

With significant trepidation he reached for the cup and commanded that his olfactory sensors be disabled. Taste receptors couldn't be _fully_ disabled, though, as they doubled as an auto-defense mechanism to know if there was something wrong with any fuel or ingredients. The first sip burned his glossa like it just might have been from a smelter and he gagged it down, if only because there was nowhere quick enough to spit it out. His refuse bin was by the door since Prowl almost never generated waste. Waste usually came from his visitors or reprimanded mechs.

He pushed back down the seal and restarted his efforts on effectively delegating. About 20 breems into his shift there was a ping at his door before it slid away for Ironhide. The visiting mech started opening his mouth but suddenly paused, drawing in a deep vent through his nose. "What's the smell? Is it that cup's black stuff?"

"My apologies. I haven't turned back on my olfactory sensors yet and must not have fully resealed it. It's that Coff-E but with a higher concentration of whatever gives that extra energy boost. The boost came at the cost of bypassing all flavor corrections. While I've never before allowed pleasantries of taste affect my refueling habits, it appears I finally found an exception."

Ironhide sat down but leaned away from the cup. "Need the boost? I remember you saying you couldn’t fetch Smoke because you were processing a heap of data."

"Unfortunately. I have a long list of items to get through."

Ironhide shrugged. "Then chug it."

"I've never done that. It's important to always examine and analyze any digested material for contaminates or poisons." Prowl took hold of the drink, slowly peeling back the seal. He observed Ironhide's reaction as more surface area of the drink became exposed, the way his nose ridge wrinkled and the corners of his optics crinkled. He missed the hard swallow of Ironhide's gag.

“Unless you really think Jack lets poisons into his non-weaponized concoctions, then chug it. As ugly as it looks, I don’t see contaminates. If you think there’s poison in there, then you need to go to Medbay for a processor check.”

Prowl frowned and gave it a try, gagging only slightly when it still skimmed along the back of his glossa. He looked back down, seeing that there was a little left.

"Practice makes perfect. Chug it again," the older mech chortled, catching Prowl’s small gag.

"I don't require advice," Prowl replied, biting back the added comment about how there was almost nothing Ironhide could order him to do.

"And I don't need to smell that. Keep going until that slag’s gone and then I'll give you a quick rundown of Smoke’s release."

Prowl did it once more and managed to succeed in finishing it without letting it touch his glossa where he could taste it. He turned back on his olfactory sensors and gestured with his helm for Ironhide to start.

“I actually don’t have much more than I already told you, I just wanted to see you get through finishing that off,” Ironhide confessed, his smile smug. “That’s for making me come here when I don’t have to.”

Prowl’s optics narrowed into a sharp glare. “So you didn’t talk to him?”

“I did, but it’s not like he’s any freer with the truth or his feelings than you are, when he gets like that. Something’s got him still upset, beyond brig time, but still wouldn’t say why. I comm’ed the twins on my way here and they’re also still refusing to give an answer. Really, the biggest reason I put him in the brig was Smokey started getting real uppity with me, and I told him I’d toss him in the brig for stupidity for back-talking an officer.”

“And since I know this story ends with him in the brig, I’ll take it that he didn’t stop.”

“Not long enough to think his next words through,” Ironhide confirmed. “I thought about sending him to his quarters but didn’t know if his reason for being upset was ‘cause of his roommate. At least the brig is empty.”

“I’ll see to it finding the cause and a remedy. Thank you.”

“Sure. If it’s fam’ business, tell him to deal with it ASAP. Dragging it out never helps. I remember this one time…” Prowl allowed Ironhide to tell his story while assessing the effects of the Coff-E. In addition to using the time to monitor his internal changes, he knew allowing the old mech to reminisce would increase the chances for better reception to Prowl’s plan to get Ironhide to voluntarily kick himself out of his own room.

Ironhide finished about the time Prowl’s focus sharpened to as if he’d achieved almost a whole two extra joors of recharge. ‘ _I can learn to quickly drink Coff-E if this is the trade off_ ,’ he mused. “What times those must have been,” Prowl replied in false awareness of the story’s contents. “How different, and yet same in some ways, the situations are now from then. Whatever the remedy is now I’ll see to it that it doesn’t risk roster vacancies.”

“Always important. Prime and I were talking about that. I think it was around the time when you went after Jazz for putting off the reports?”

“Perhaps. I didn’t listen to your conversations and thus couldn’t say for certainty about the topic. You, Prime, and Ratchet in your quarters that night so it’s plausible.”

“I can’t believe you went after him. He finally settles down after almost a mega-orn of trouble and you don’t let him rest even for one solid recharge.” Ironhide’s tone lacked an obvious accusation, but Prowl fully recognized the firm reprimand in his words.

“Lessons must be learned,” Prowl replied, doing what he could to avoid an outright lie. Although his tac-set had no qualms about lies, his spark always sent unpleasant pangs his way for lying unnecessarily. It was true, but the lesson was more his to learn than Jazz’s: how to avoid suspicion when wanting privacy that requires passing through a public area. “I did also make sure he was acceptable to return to officer duties, as First Aid wasn’t sure relaxation and recharge would suffice.”

“That’s mighty nice of you.”

“I was simply fulfilling my responsibilities.”

“Nah, simply fulfilling your responsibilities would be sending Jazz an official reminder about making sure he’d be able to resume his duties or else notify us officers about him needing to take absence for the orn.”

Prowl tried dancing around the possible reasons Ironhide might think of as to why Prowl went beyond his normal routine for others, awkwardly aware of his every expression, doorwing twitch, and intonation.

[[New AI initiated action…]] His tac-set automatically started working without a request.

‘ _Great,_ ’ Prowl muttered. He hadn’t actually commanded it to go into standby when Ironhide entered, so it wasn’t necessarily a warning flag. It provided data-related assistance as he spoke. “The chances of a Special Ops training exceeding the planned time has a historical 18% chance of occurring. Of that, just under 2% is due to critical mission events usurping the training. The last training exercise that Jazz ran with agents completely unfamiliar with the terrain was over 10 vorns ago,” he explained, ignoring time lost from stasis. “In addition, the purpose of the training was learning how to adapt mission parameters and extractions as needed to a cold, ice-patch-laced organic world. The closest training Jazz has been involved with that closely matches those obstacles was before he became TIC.

“Based on that parameters not related to the Decepticon discovery, I calculated a 9.5% chance that Jazz would not or could not safely resume his duties the following shift, upon his return. After the Decepticon discovery, adding those previously mentioned parameters, on top of the lacking backup options and the open-ended extended duration, my calculations increased to 74% by the time Jazz finally returned. Given the high percentage, I opted to verify myself instead of sending an official reminder.”

Prowl folded his hands and kept everything about his face and posture neutral. ‘ _There, that shouldn’t raise suspicion._ ’

“In that light it sounds reasonable. Also sounds like you’re speaking tac-set talk again.”

Prowl stared at Ironhide for a moment before making sense of the statement. “I’m speaking strategically, not as a conduit for the tac-set.”

“Having heard you speak strategically with and without the tac-set, I can tell. You're talking for the tac-set.”

Prowl barely caught and stifled an involuntary sigh. He had other priorities than to go down this avenue again, with the mech’s latest interest in insisting everyone try be a little less war-hardened, outside of actual war-related duties and situations. Which to Prowl that meant the time between putting down the datapad and offlining for recharge. Even if he managed to not take his reports with him to his quarters, he always made sure to plan for the following shift before shutting down for recharge. He still didn’t quite grasp what others made of the idea of being less war-focused outside of duties and potential combat situation, other than several ‘Bots tried making high-grade more often.

Back during his time interacting with others when his tac-set was completely offline, while his spark’s healing stabilized, Ironhide seem to fixate on the differences as signs of war-hardened Prowl versus “the real Prowl.” The whole concept was not one he merited, but others did, and it was exactly why he banged on Jazz’s door instead of calmly insisting he be allowed inside. They weren’t going to try and rope him into “free time” conversations if he was uninviting.

Prowl worked on bringing the conversation back in line with his hidden agenda. “Whatever the case may be, I spoke to Jazz until _I_ was certain he settled down into a safe state to partially resume his duties. However, I apologize if my approach disrupted your ‘vacation.’ I suppose I’m not used to recreational activities in the officers’ quarters hall, or at least entertaining while leaving the door open.”

Ironhide shifted, more to get comfortable than in response to the possible meanings behind the vocalized observation. “Well, those quarters aren’t made to host more than a handful of average-sized mechs, and less if you get mechs who talk with their hands. Given that me and most of my visitors are at least on the upper end of average size, sometimes we need the door open or spilling out into the hallway for space.”

“True, the ship was designed to meet acceptable measures of comforts during travels. It was never meant to become a base.”

“Hence the expansion.”

“Yes, speaking of which,” Prowl paused to fetch a datapad, “I noticed there’s been talk among others about some potential work near the officers’ hallway but there’s a lack of storage for tools, equipment, and such. The best available is the double storage closest near the training area.” He pulled up the layout plan showing their hallway, pointed to the areas that might require work.

There weren't any actual plans in development for the officers’ hallway because any new officers would be housed near the soldier quarters for monitoring, but that didn’t mean an argument couldn’t be made about potential future plans.

“That’s not what someone carrying equipment would call close,” Hide replied with a helm shake.

“No. I’ve been considering other options. I realized that those storage closets were originally designed to be more like room inserts, capable of supporting any standard functional room.” He pulled up the schematics for the area. “The south wall is already set to be able to accept anything of that nature, from an office, to a recreational area, to even quarters. The middle wall is more of a divider than anything else. It isn't even load-bearing.”

“Okay…?” Ironhide let it hang there, sensing the direction of this conversation.

“From this conversation and what I already suspected, you need more room for more visitors, especially for the bigger mechs and their hand-talking. We could remove the divider, add a few hookups would allow for private washracks, and construct an inner wall layout for plenty of open entertainment space. Based on that, I thought perhaps you might consider it? The location would also cut down on how much travelling you need to do for most of your routine or urgent matters. We could turn your current quarters into a temporary storage area, and perhaps later repurpose it either for another officer or something practical.”

"Huh, so you're asking me if I’ll move?" Ironhide mused, rubbing his chin with his palm. Prowl let the question hang rather than speak to confirm. "Would make my life easier, 'though Ratchet and Prime might begrudge the walk.”

“With Prime's stride, I doubt he’ll much notice,” Prowl dryly dismissed, despite the distance change not exactly being negligible for all but those too tall to fit inside the ship. “If certain bits and pieces from Red Alert's convoluted quasi-conniptions about Ratchet's inclinations towards... repeat private company... is what I think it is, then Ratchet can easily work it out.”

Ironhide’s optics widened at that comment. “ _Ahhh huummm_ , you and Red know about that?”

“I’m not asking for confirmation or denial, nor am I going to elaborate further. I’m merely pointing it out so that you don’t make a decision based on your own assumptions.” The comment was a risk, leaving it open to potential questions. Prowl hoped the gambit paid off, that Ironhide would go for the out rather than press why Prowl would overlook something a known rule-abider would investigate, at minimum.

Ironhide mulled some more over the offer, absconding his initial concerns for person comforts for the possibility of leaking matters he didn’t think were of Prowl’s business. “Red might cause some considerable disruptions with security measures on dividing up the officers.”

"I’m sure a scaled version of the current security grid can be incorporated to secure the proposed new location, with minimal disruption to daily activities once the conversion is completed. Is that a yes or a maybe? I’d like to have any work change forms processed ASAP, given what’s already active.”

“I don’t want everyone watching what’s or who’s coming and going like it’s a theater.”

“I’m sure Grapple will be happy to put his skills to use for you and design effective means of privacy beyond the door.”

“Alrighty then. I’m not saying a definite yes, but a yes if it’s converted right. That includes washracks the size I want, where I want it, and an actual berthroom. Move the dividing wall instead of tearing it down. Make it a proper officer quarters.”

“I’ll bring you a datapad with the forms prepared when we meet for the debrief meeting.”

“That fast? Don’t you have more important matters?” One of the weapons mech’s optics scrutinized the tactician.

Prowl’s doorwings flicked up before he could stop them. “Everyone has the right to be happy, and it sounds like this opportunity could be very important to you.” His monotone voice had a few distinctly non-monotone inflections in that answer. He tried again. “Delaying the execution of this move would probably leave you and your get-togethers in limbo, and that can generate other problems.”

Ironhide’s other optic narrowed.

Prowl added, “Administrative problems. For example.”

He stared at the mech for several kliks. “Sure, for example. Sounds like legit reasoning.”

“It is.”

“Okay, then. If that’s all you got to say about me moving.”

“It is. Enjoy your free time until the meeting.”

“Sure. Be seeing you,” Ironhide bid farewell, backing up slowly instead of immediately turning and walking towards the exit.

Once alone Prowl snapped back to managing his workload until he could break to start the forms for Ironhide. Only then did his processor belatedly process that he'd actually achieved a step towards spending time with Jazz. His hands stopped over the controls as the realization caught up. They quivered and his spark spun faster. _‘I’m either emotionally affected by this or that Coff-E’s effect is still growing. Perhaps both?’_ He tried digging into the source, but found too many unknowns. He considered lowering the emotion filters to better “hear” his spark.

[[New AI initiated action… Recommendation over course-of-action: Set additional alerts for elevated neuro-net activities, then return to work. Disregard considerations for emotion evaluation. Smokescreen’s arrival is expected within 4 joors.]]

Prowl frowned but agreed, leaving the filters alone and shaking his hands out. He filled out the forms, acutely focused on them and doing his best to ignore a tingling sensation that was borderline disruptive. ‘ _This must be what Inferno meant when he said the Coff-E gave Red Alert jitters.’_

Many reports later his door chimed. Prowl disconnected and cycled his vents slowly in preparation for Smokescreen’s visit and his intent to reconnect something despite the strained familiar relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That white shade number is just me playing with RGB (255, 255,255) and hexadecimal (#FFFFFF) colors. 
> 
> I need to work back up my buffer of draft chapters. I hope to do that within 2 weeks, but life is making August interesting.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay! I hit a massive writer’s block and other stuff. Good news: Muses are back and now I’m in the middle of writing chapter 13, so I can post when I polish the other rough drafts.
> 
> Also, I took off the **graphic violence** warning because it's relatively far off (this is a slower burn than I was planning), and probably won't be as bad as I was thinking. I reserve putting it back, tho'.

“Come in, Smokescreen,” Prowl called when Smokescreen didn’t enter without prompting.

“Not just me,” Smokescreen replied after a short delay when the door opened.

Prowl tilted his helm to see just beyond a gap between Smokescreen’s arm nestling a cube a to see a very familiar frame. “Hello, Bluestreak.” Prowl slowly rotated his arms so the scratches laid flat on the desk surface.

“Hi, Prowl!” Bluestreak called over Smokescreen’s shoulder as the pair walked into the office, single-file until they were clear of the doorway. He lifted one of the two cubes in hand. “Got yours right here.”

“Not that I’m opposed to you coming,” Prowl began as he mindfully accepted the handed cube, “but this is a working break. And your monitor duty break isn’t scheduled at the same time as mine.”

“I know,” Bluestreak smiled, the corners of his mouth barely rising. Smokescreen sat down, muttering more to himself. “But it was both of us or none of us, so I switched breaks with Beachcomber.”

“Was never _ordered_ here,” Smokescreen grumbled, his volume increasing from his muttering.

‘ _A fallacy on my end to assume an order was necessary_ ,’ Prowl retorted. Responding to the bitter comment with admonishment wouldn’t be of benefit, but silent reprimands mollified his displeasure in the matter. “Are you suffering any hangover?”

Bluestreak sat down and nudged the silent brother when he’d settled but gave no answer. Smokescreen grunted, “Barely.”

Bluestreak glared briefly at Smokescreen. “Thanks for helping get Smokey somewhere safe.”

Smokescreen started, “Yeah, thanks for sending your – ow!” He stopped short and glared at the one pinching a low corner of his doorwing. A returned glare stopped him and he recalled the conversation with Blue easily. His optics twitched but he smoothed out his expression. Bluestreak did the same after Smokescreen. “Yeah, thanks,” he said with only a hint of a scrunched nose in Prowl’s direction.

‘ _I’m already lost,_ ’ Prowl realized when no reply of familiar solidarity came to mind.

[[New AI initiated – ]]

[[Cancel query.]]

Prowl carefully worded his original defense after reconsidering it when roleplaying this conversation out with Jazz. “I would have come myself, but I was in the middle of a datafeed to the tac-set that needed to be finished before the primary shift started. Ironhide seemed more appropriate for you of all the officers, given he’s also the least likely to bother filing a report. When he does, it’s usually bare minimum. I checked and he hasn’t filed anything.”

“Jazz is the same way when it comes to minor infractions. What about him? At least he takes things more in stride when he catches someone.”

Smokescreen’s reply made sense but Prowl wasn’t about to confess about wanting Jazz elsewhere, even if Prowl wasn’t able to do anything with him. His reluctance was not only based on missing pieces of family bonding, but the knowledge Smokescreen had previously gambled away Prowl’s personal information to Jazz for the right winnings, and the other mech present had a tendency to blurt out random details during stressed babbling.

“Jazz’s schedule showed he was engaged with Special Ops communication updates with Blaster, whereas Ironhide was free.”

“Could’ve called him. You know he never works perfectly in-sync with his schedule like you do,” Smokescreen began to argue back.

Bluestreak elbow-jabbed Smokescreen and looked into Prowl’s face to keep either one from continuing. “How’s it been? Haven’t seen you much since you didn’t need us anymore.”

Prowl weighed his options about the offered open-ended question. “I’m sorry for the lack of interaction. I know for a while you grew accustomed to it, while I was under Ratchet’s mandatory escort restrictions. My health is either the same or better since he lifted those requirements, but my time is less free than Prime hoped. Everyone’s enthusiasm to improve this unintended base so it truly meets base-status requirements, in addition to requesting their missed friends here, adds substantial work under my areas of responsibilities.”

“Like what?” the sniper asked.

“Significant rises in reports, documentations, Earth permits, overseeing the replenishing and consumption of Earth materials, staffing, and such come to my desk.”

Smokescreen raised an optic ridge, coupled with a half-frown. “I thought Prime was in charge of human-Autobot things such as meetings and permits. Something about humans requiring an authorized signature. Thought you were sharing the Earth stock stuff with Hide.”

Bluestreak squinted his optics between his two brothers. “How can Prowl not be an authorized signature? He’s the SIC of the entire Autobot army. How’s his approval or word not enough?”

“That’s not what the signature is about,” Prowl corrected. “As we work out all the finer details of the nature of our relationship and our needs on their planet, the humans want one appointee for everything to simplify immediate needs. Since he’s Prime and an effective speaker on compassion and togetherness and whatnot, Optimus makes for the best appointed representative for us. I work on preparing what he needs while he’s indisposed. Regarding Ironhide, he usually takes care of scheduled deliveries and special orders while I take care of post-delivery. I had to put in a special order last orn since he’s off-duty.”

“ _Ooooh_. Can’t someone else do that?”

“Hopefully, when we have more Autobots here.” When Sideswipe’s talent for trades and negotiation was getting more notoriety Prowl received an “anonymous” request for having Sideswipe take over a part of that process. Prowl shot that down so fast that the request hadn’t finished loading.

Prowl took a drink from his cube, as did the others. “How are you both doing?”

Smokescreen had his mouth half open, his optics laden with a deadpan glare, when Bluestreak jabbed again with his elbow. The eldest closed his mouth, thought about his response, and then gave a reply that didn’t match the look on his face. “Peachy.”

“I’m doing alright,” Bluestreak replied. He took a drink and the other two obligingly did the same. “Earlier when I was driving in I saw some black birds obeying the road markings by not caring about moving cars ‘cause the birds were on the other side of the white lines. Black birds are smarter than I think, which is kind of creepy?”

“Crows,” Smokescreen corrected. “We have crows here.”

Prowl wanted to steer the conversation back to work before Bluestreak got off on a tangent on birds, but the start of Bluestreak’s mini-story had him instead saying, “When you say ‘earlier’, are you referring to before the start of this shift? Because if that's the case, I'm curious to know why you were driving in for monitor duty.”

Bluestreak’s optics flew wide and this time Smokescreen elbowed him. The youngest almost squeaked, “What, a mech can’t stay up instead of recharge so he can go out and have fun? I can fun. I have lots of fun.”

Prowl kept his optics leveled on Bluestreak.

Bluestreak squirmed and blurted out, "It's not against regulations to go out when I'm off-duty and within battle scrambling range!"

Smokescreen changed tactics and pinched Bluestreak's squirmy elbow. "Hush up!"

Prowl's stare lost its effect when the plating around his optics went lax. "So, let me see if I understand what details I have in the correct order: Smokescreen decides to drink until he's overcharged right by a construction zone, when Smokescreen is being walked to brig by Ironhide he’s passed by an unhappy Bluestreak, and then Bluestreak leaves base grounds for the remainder of his off-duty time without coming back to get at least some recharge."

The other two exchanged careful glances. Smokescreen turned away first, to face Prowl. "I'm invoking my right to silence."

"This isn't an interrogation."

"Sure feels like one," Smokescreen sulked.

Bluestreak's optics diverted away from Prowl's, focusing on the back of the computer terminal. "Are you sure you properly cleaned the back here? 'Cause I think I see some dust. That’s bad for the computer. I could help you clean later and you could tell me more about your orn, or how you normally end it now that you’re free of escorts."

The middle brother's stare didn't improve, his expression looking more and more glossed over. ' _So it appears I can't maintain a brotherly persona without slipping into a Big Brother one for more than two breems_ ,' he thought offhandedly. ' _Now what?_ ' Prowl needed to solve his workload problem but there was clearly another problem he was missing. The issue with that was he didn't know how to broach the unknown problem.

[[New AI initiated action... Recommendation: inform Smokescreen and Bluestreak that the options are to explain the reasons in the deviations in their behavior or return to the original working-break purpose. Outcome: Based on historical data, estimated 79.5023% chance that Smokescreen will defer explaining his actions and accept workload. Estimated 80.1864% chance Bluestreak will accept Smokescreen's lead.]]

[[Go on standby,]] Prowl ordered, belatedly remembering the tac-set was only in an idle state before it ran through its proposed plan. He considered its recommendation despite the surprise. It was arguably a low blow, to use his brothers' discomfort to his own advantage. Getting Smokescreen to take on some of his work wouldn't solve their problems but his problems only. That left his tanks uneasy, doing something to get only what he wanted, even if that was his original intent.

He genuinely wanted to help, he realized. He just didn't know how to genuinely help, without an ulterior motive. Why was that?

[[New AI initiated action...]]

' _Damn it_ ,' Prowl grimaced. Whatever it was that had Ratchet insisting on a full reboot was clearly starting to return.

[[Recommendation: Position's requirement as Head of Tactical includes constant consideration for meeting the ultimate goal, victory over the Decepticons and survival of the Autobots. The likelihood of constant requirement for seeking achievement of ultimate goal creeping into other aspects of life is 0.0081% each mega-orn of active duty for general tactical positions, with an additional increase of 0.0916% per promotion, per mega-orn. Calculated for duration of User Prowl's active duty, compounded by promotions, calculations of User Prowl's role creep into dominating all aspects of life is 99.9847%.]]

' _To summarize, I can't_ not _think in such a military manner while I have a tactical mindset._ ' That realization rang truer than he'd like, but a mindset primed to always plan, plot, defend, and attack was now etched into every thought and every movement, and that didn't strip away like cheap paint.

Prowl’s own processor started burning from trying to gain a firm grasp on the situation. He rubbed his temples by the pained processor portion, as if the coolness from the capillary coolant lines could penetrate the plating. For the moment he couldn't think of any way to help without motive, so with motive he would act.

Both Bluestreak and Smokescreen looked at each other again. Bluestreak drew out, “Are you okay?”

Smokescreen's shoulders hunched and he added, “That’s not because of us, is it?”

“No, the tac-set is working on matters a battle computer shouldn’t be working on, but given the expansion of my duties since arriving here it’s also expanded its role through adaptive coding."

"Like what duties?" the non-tactical brother prompted. "I mean, besides the stuff for Prime's signatures and stuff."

"That makes up a large chunk of the new coding. The remaining of the new duties aren't so much 'new' as they are redundant. Being as spread out as our race is and between casualties of war in battle and out, holes in chains of command are being filled by Autobots not properly trained to be officers. The issue is more exasperated where there's extra vicious fighting with our enemies. Rank positions are either filled with stubborn dedicated fighters, or with those perceived as too weak to be deemed 'battle critical.' The first group wants to push everything through because they'd rather use the time between fights to fieldstrip and clean their weapons instead of rework the supplies distribution for the new helm count. The second group is too afraid to say 'no' to the first group, or ask for help."

"So what's that do to you?"

"I have more reports to work through, but we're also looking at staffing here for training until they've had sufficient enough time to rotate elsewhere."

"How many more reports?" Bluestreak asked.

"Than usual? An average of 67 per orn are newly open that meet that criteria. That’s after the auto-reject filters for mislabeled reports."

Bluestreak's optics widened until Prowl thought the outer lens might pop out. "Whoa! No wonder we never see you anymore! Hey, maybe Smokey can help?"

"Hey not!" Smokescreen protested. "I have work things. And I'm divisionary tactics, not staffing tactics. I already do divisionary tactic analysis, be it coordinating between warfronts or making sure one's plans don't divert enemies right into another's with lesser standing."

"Doesn't hurt to learn more," Bluestreak retorted. "Maybe you could learn how to make a base have more standing. Or something. It's not like divisionary stuff is just blowing smoke up one's aft and face. Then you could, you know, work on it instead of getting overcharged when things don't go your way."

Prowl interrupted Smokescreen's reply. "What way? What happened that didn't go your way?"

Smokescreen closed his mouth, looked at Prowl, then glared at Bluestreak before looking back at Prowl. "If I agree to help you with your problems, will you stop asking about what's up with us?"

Prowl's spark shrunk almost painfully tiny, and something very unpleasant filtered through his emotional wall. His tac-set readily accepted the reply, seeing Smokescreen taking on Prowl's work while hiding so he couldn't be problematic as a complete win-win. "I won't ask you while you're here, but I make no promises about later."

"Seeing how I wasn't planning to stick around, that's not really a deal."

Bluestreak huffed. Smokescreen scowled. Prowl suddenly had an inkling that the two were having a private commlink conversation. His theory's merit increased when Smokescreen relented. "Okay, if I say 'yes' to the work, I get to leave now. Deal?"

"If that's what you wish. I can have a list of reports redirected to you in _Teletraan_ , so you won't need to wait here for them." Prowl's plan was to sit down with Smokescreen and go through the reports, talking each one or each group (depending on content) before reassigning them. However it was clear to him that type and level of interaction was too much to be welcomed by Smokescreen. Prowl really didn't know why.

[[New AI initiated – ]]

[[Stop,]] he commanded. The aggressive nature of the tac-set now incorporating his personal life was not helping him solve these matters.

Out loud Prowl added to his statement to Smokescreen, and Bluestreak by proxy, "I intended to use this refueling break to work with you to get through a few items. However, if you'd prefer I'd just assign several reports to you instead and let you be on your way to figure out what's needed, then I can do that."

"Okay, sounds like a good plan."

Bluestreak’s optics slightly dimmed. “I wouldn’t mind a working refuel break, but I don’t think you have anything I can do.”

“I’m sorry Bluestreak, but I don’t.” The crestfallen look on Bluestreak’s face was painful to witness. “If you speak slower, I can allow the tac-set to work in the background and let you talk. I’ll have to periodically check in with the tac-set and perhaps sign some reports, hence why you’d need to speak slower for me to get the details. Does that sound fair?”

“Yeah!”

“Sounds like I’m done, so I’m out,” Smokescreen excused himself. “Later.”

Bluestreak scowled, an unusual sight on him, and Smokescreen whipped his helm at him, scowling right back. They were definitely using comms.

“What’s going on?” Prowl insisted, borderline demanded.

“Nothing!” They both replied.

Bluestreak added in an almost dry defense, “We’re just being siblings. Stuff. That’s all. We got it, don’t worry.”

“I can worry.”

“Well, we don’t want you to,” Bluestreak insisted.

“Yeah, it’s nothing that needs your involvement. Can’t two brothers hash out things privately?” Smokescreen deflected.

‘Now _I’m really lost. Before was nothing compared to this._ ’ Prowl couldn’t for the life of him think of a solid counterargument. “If that’s your wish. I’m available to hear your sides and help mediate, if you change your minds.”

“We’re good. Bye,” Smokescreen darted out of the room so neither brother could keep the conversation going.

Prowl looked to Bluestreak. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me now that we’re alone?”

“It’s seriously not a big deal.” Prowl knew that was a lie. Arguments between the two rarely got worse than a short dispute or two. “It’s younger-brother/older-brother argument stuff. It’ll blow over. “

“So now that I’ve got your attention, I was thinking maybe we could talk about what’s happened with each of us in the eight-ish mega-orns since we’ve really hung out? Oh wait, you said you can’t really interact while you work, huh? That’s okay. I’ve been doing well.” Bluestreak launched into stories, not speaking as slowly as Prowl hoped. Slow enough that he got most of the words whenever Prowl had to interact with the tac-set for longer than a few split-kliks or _Teletraaan_ , but certain not all.

Eventually Bluestreak’s break ended and he left, a notable bounce in his departure’s first steps. Prowl returned to prepping for the debriefing and in almost no time at all, it was time.


	8. Chapter 8

Prowl didn’t need to worry too much about hiding his scratches when he departed early for the meeting, carrying datapads for each mech how’d be in attendance. His own report copies included a separate datapad so he could see reports and his notes at the same time.

Arriving at the Officers Debrief Room he saw Ironhide heartily laughing with a chuckling Prime. Carefully he set down his datapads and held his plus two more. He walked to the pair. “Hello Ironhide and Prime. Here’s your datapads for the meeting.” He held out each one a datapad when they gave him their full attention. “Ironhide, yours has those forms we talked about.”

“Oh?” Prime asked, glancing at the datapad before focusing on Ironhide. “Are you changing something, Ironhide?”

“Yeah, kind of. Prowl here suggested I get myself bigger quarters and had some already considered. Looks like it could be a nice change, few things permitting.” Ironhide gave Prowl a long sideways look. “He’s pushing it through quickly. Something about administrative concerns and not leaving _me_ or my guests in limbo.” Ironhide’s “not leaving _me_ ” comment had a heightened note, as if questioning.

“And as I said, those are my concerns. Please continue informing Prime. I need to lay out the rest of the datapads.”

“Prowl,” Optimus spoke before the Praxian could leave. “Please add these chips to the datapads.” He produced a set of chips from his subspace. “After the debrief I have Earth and staffing-related news to share.”

“Anything I need to know now?”

“I’d rather you focus on the mission debrief first.”

Prowl nodded and left to do as asked while setting everything out at empty seats. When he finished he sat down to sneak a peek at Prime’s datachip but the Special Ops group and Ratchet chose then to arrive.

Jazz was speaking to Bumblebee and Mirage was gracefully nodding along. Jazz sat down at the table and his two agents pulled wall-side chairs up to sit behind Jazz, the table lacking enough space to comfortably add them to the mix. Ratchet sat two chairs away from the trio, on Prowl’s right.

The Head of Special Ops picked up his datapad. He comm’ed Prowl. ::How’d it go with Hide and Smokey?::

::With Hide it went well enough. He has some reservations but nothing that can’t be rectified. Smokescreen and Bluestreak both came to my office. It didn’t go well. I’ll explain later.::

::Yay for the first, boo for the second. Yeah, we’ll talk later. Got to mentally prepare myself this meeting.::

Another breem later everyone was sitting down: Jazz, Ratchet, Ironhide, Prime, Prowl, Red Alert, Perceptor, and the two agents. Although Perceptor wasn’t an officer, he attended to represent his group. One of the staffing items was to either promote him (which Perceptor didn’t want) or find another Science officer. Right now Ratchet was the official officer with Perceptor as acting officer.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” Prowl started while sitting. “We’re here to go over the debrief with Special Ops. Jazz, will you please start?”

“Yup. Bee and Mirage are here to answer any questions you have directly for them, but also so they know what’s going on from our side.

“So to recap how this all started: us three and three more non-Earth agents went to northern Canada for training in freezing organic conditions. I headed it, Mirage and Bumblebee played Decepticons, and the three agents were to run drills. Barely after the second orn started one of the agents, Punch, lost his peds and fell down an icy ravine. I let him find his way out, only to have his almost stumble into a secret Decepticon base.

“Luckily the Decepticons thought it a rockslide. They were new ones, too. Never got their names. They referred to each other by insults, like Slag Eater and Tool Lover. Quality mechs. We counted at least five, but they were all acting as scouts with a home base. There could’ve been more that never made it back to base while we were watching. Looks like the Decepticons are also upping their force count.

“We tailed as many scouts as we could.” Jazz left out the tailing mistakes his newer agents made, especially the one that concerned Jazz. “Not easy since they weren’t sticking too well to patterns. From what we observed, best guess is they’re scouting a landing site at a temp base. They had some of Soundwave’s equipment but I never saw Wave.

“A pair of Decepticons found a temp base the third deca-orn. One left to tell the others, the other decided to drink to celebrate his usefulness. He overdrank and Mirage was able to take lead and mess with the Decepticon while cloaked, eventually getting him to step on a box and ruin everything. We saw destroyed bits of tools and a dataslug. Based on his freak out, we’re pretty sure it’s something that admitting fault would be a bad thing. He called his pal to say the temp site was no good. A couple of orns later they left, and then we left. Best we can tell they didn’t find a new temp site, leaving because of something to do with that box.”

Bumblebee, having been the smallest and repainted to match an icy forest color at the time, added, “I saw them trying to repair the box’s contents, the two scouts. They convinced the team that the area wasn’t any good because the tools weren’t working right in the frozen ground. Unfortunately we never saw the tools used in any recognizable condition.”

“Yeah,” Jazz concurred and Mirage nodded. “The high-grade chugging fool talked about it taking at least a deca-orn to repair it because there was no way he’s fessing up to his mistakes to Command. From that we concluded that there’s likely at least a deca-orn before anything happens. Probably longer, but we’ll need our troops to up surveillance.”

Prowl leaned forward. “There’s more to this than Jazz’s mission, I believe. Before we discuss plans, I’d like to go over what I found. On your datapads are two reports: Jazz’s debrief and WRKR-2010. Jazz has summarized his debrief, and now I’d like to turn your attention to the Wreckers’ report.”

Prowl had to fight himself to keep his arms down. He never realized until now how much he pointed. “The Wreckers are following at least one Decepticon they haven’t been able to identify. There’s some evidence that there’s two, but in that case they’re separating to do damage on multiple warfronts despite traveling together. Survivor accounts have variation of the Decepticon we know exists, but mostly the only consistency is white head fins and a multi-colored body.”

Red Alert butted in when Prowl paused. “I see the concerns, but I don’t see how that’s tied into Jazz’s mission. That sounds like a separate meeting topic. The security issues I can determine from Jazz’s will be significant.”

“I’m sure that’s true… If you’ll _permit_ me to continue, as far as the Wreckers can tell they aren’t stealing anything. They managed to identify a general path direction and actually managed to get ahead of them. That’s where they realized there was likely a second, when almost half of the team was killed. The other half ended up behind the first Decepticon when he skipped a base. He may have been tipped off.

“The reason why I suspect their report is tied into Jazz’s is that I mapped out the likely possible paths and Earth is the highest possibility. Given what Jazz’s team observed, that puts odds at almost 91% they’re coming here.”

Everyone’s optics widen, except the knowing Jazz. Prime asked, “How long until they arrive?”

“They’re slowing themselves down by taking many detours to attack us. I project at least four more deca-orns before their arrival, but easily five. If anything, we need to fortify the bases in their path. I suggest we use this meeting to discuss that fortification and how we want to monitor the Decepticon Command.”

Prime nodded. “In that case, I should discuss now what’s on my datachips. We can pool together all knowledge and work it from there. Earth has requested that we start upping our staff count now. As we’re all aware, more Decepticon activity has been observed.”

Prowl frowned. “That’s too fast. We’re still working off of preliminary lists, and combining that with the fortification of four to six bases will strip other bases of personnel instead of rotating them. I also still haven’t found the appropriate personnel for the remaining Wreckers to vet.”

[[New AI initiated action… AI Barricade recommendation over course of action: Rank personnel in preliminary list by use to the three major bases.]]

‘ _Double damn it_ ,’ Prowl groaned. ‘ _I suppose another trip to Ratchet is in order._ ’

[[Barricade recommends against visiting Ratchet.]]

“I know,” Prime replied. “Given that more Decepticon activity has been observed, new Decepticons have been spotted, and now that we have a dangerous threat on their way, I cannot see pushing back. We’ll need to take that preliminary list and divide it as best as we’re able across three bases. We’ll come up with a secondary list of Autobots we can temporarily relocated for any other bases, should we be unable to stop the threat at the first two.”

Ratchet groused, “Guess we’re going to be busy. Let’s get cracking.”

Prime held onto Mirage and Bumblebee a little longer for minor questioning before excusing them. Nearly two joors later they had their assignments and staffing list finalized for an immediate personnel shuffle. The Autobots would be moved around immediately, with Prime and Prowl finalizing the orders.

When they were wrapping up, Prowl received another comm. from Jazz. ::Why has Hide been giving me suspicious glances whenever I talk to you?::

::Perhaps he thinks you’re holding back regarding mission details?::

::He’s never accused me of holding back ever, past a few personal details. Oh sweet Primus, what did you say when you convinced him to consider moving?!::

::Nothing about us.::

::We are _so_ talking about this later, either before or after your repaint.::

::We should forego that,:: Prowl replied. ::You have more than enough work now.::

::I’ll probably be really late to getting off-duty, but I bet I can still beat you to my quarters.::

::Of course you can. I don’t have your code.::

::First to their own quarters wins, then.::

::I do not consent to this type of race.::

::Too bad,:: Jazz teased.

Prime announced, “We have our lists and assignments. Everyone’s dismissed.”

::Excuse me, I need to talk to Ratchet,:: Prowl said in dismissal, closing the line. To Ratchet he comm’ed, ::Ratchet, if you would speak to me in Medbay at the end of the primary shift?::

::Why? What happened now?::

::The tac-set appears to have reversed everything you did. It’s referring to itself as Barricade again.::

::Primus frag it. I told you we needed to let the purge programs run longer. Fine, fine. Be on time.::

Prowl had every intent to be on time, using it as a necessary break in his own workload. As he neared that time, and just after he handed off explained work to Trailbreaker, he started thinking about what he’d do during that necessary break. Last time he thought about Jazz. Perhaps he should talk to Jazz this time?

He reopened his commlink to ping Jazz. After several kliks the mech answered. ::What’s up?::

::I have a medical appoint after my shift with Ratchet. I’m planning to use it as a break. He needs to turn off my tac-set and run a purge program because some code appears to have inappropriately mutated again. I was wondering if you’d also talk it as a break and visit me so we can discuss matters?:: Why did his voice sound so weak and wavering?

[[Barricade – ]]

[[No.]]

::Yeah, that sounds like a good plan!:: Jazz answered back. ::I’ll find a way to make that work. Promise.::

::I will comm. you when Ratchet’s ready to put me in stasis to turn it off. That should give you enough time.::

::See ya then.::

Time passed fast enough that Prowl wrapped up his work, downloaded plenty of reports to a datapad, and cleaned his office quickly to leave for Ratchet.

Ratchet greeted him with a stern face. “So am I going to get the full ten breems this time?”

“Yes, since five had such a small window of effectiveness.”

“No slag. Come on, let’s get this started.” Ratchet motioned to be followed.

::Jazz?:: Prowl pinged

Several long kliks went by. ::Prowl? Is it time already?::

::Yes?::

::Oh mech, I’m sorry. I can’t make it.:: Jazz almost mumbled, having to do this to Prowl. ::I was following up with Punch and something’s happened. It’s nothing that needs an emergency meeting, but I have to handle this now. I’m really sorry.::

::It’s alright,:: Prowl accepted. He wasn’t pleased with Jazz being the one too busy in the office for a change, but there was nothing to be done.

::I swear I’ll comm. you once it’s dealt with. I think I’ll still be able to do our repaint plans, but I might be later than I thought.::

::I should’ve accepted that race, then. I’d have won.::

Jazz laughed. ::Yeah, I suppose. See you later, okay?::

::Alright.::

When Prowl closed the line he noticed the back wall of Medbay. “You still haven’t sent in your request on the Medbay changes.”

“Oops. I’ll have Aid do it.”

“Please do so, or for our one-on-one meeting I’ll be helping you submit it.”

“Way to kill what wee little fun to be had,” Ratchet sarcastically replied. “Hop up. Is there anything you want me to do before I put you into stasis?”

Prowl thought about the offer carefully. If Jazz couldn’t meet him, could he work with something else? “Please call my brothers and tell them to meet me here. I’d like to discuss a family issue.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said in a different fic ( _Deceptive Love_ ) if it’s not a drafted chapter, then it’s going to be slow-going. I have several chapters drafted for this, so it’ll probably be moderately slow-going.
> 
> Also, thanks to [Sorsa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorsa/pseuds/Sorsa) for beta-reading this chapter.

“Before you step into my office, we need to discuss those scratches on your arms. They’re almost gouges. What happened?”

Prowl seized up at Ratchet’s words greeting him once he stood up, immediately forgetting he couldn’t ask his tac-set to help him get out of this one. He was so close to getting away with it.

It took him almost too long to respond. “I dropped my datapads and when I tried catching them, the corners scratched me. A problem with carrying an armful of datapads.”

“That’s some _really poor luck_ for datapads to do that. Why’d you drop the datapads?”

“… Jazz startled me. It’s why he owes me a repaint.” Jazz had mentioned not hiding that he’d be repainting Prowl, and pretending to volunteer the information might satisfy the snooping medic to not feel the need to ask further questions, or try to fix the fairly-minor damage.

“What was he doing?” Ratchet’s optic ridges were cocked, one up, one down.

“Ah, being energetic. You know how he is sometimes after a mission.”

Now Ratchet’s optics were narrowed. “Don’t want to really answer me?”

“I’d rather not get him into trouble.”

“ _Riiight_ … because that’s normal of you. Tac-set on or not. What are you hiding?”

“Nothing,” Prowl automatically defended before belatedly catching the hole in his argument. “I simply do not wish to disclose what Jazz was doing right before he repaints me, least I end up with a strange color between my doorwings.”

Ratchet was silent, studying Prowl. Before he could study for long he relented. “Sounds personal, but I’ll have to let you go for now. Your brothers are on their way, so if you want to talk to them privately you better go into my office now.”

Prowl moved quickly, stepping inside Ratchet's office only to linger at the doorway. He needed to figure out how to approach the situation on his own. His instincts told him to approach it from behind Ratchet's desk. His comfort zone was behind a desk, and if not that, then a chair and a datapad. Those approaches wouldn't work, given the last go-around he had with his brothers and him evidently lacking approachability.

Ratchet's office didn't have an actual sitting area separate from his desk, but there was just enough space by some cabinets to move the chairs around. Prowl grabbed Ratchet's chair and moved it, trying to find a spot that didn't look to awkward or closed off.

His problem with the sitting arrangement was that every spot not behind a desk looked awkward or wrong to him. Knowing they were on their way, he pushed his chair as far into the corner as possible and then moved the next two chairs away from the desk but not so close to Ratchet’s chair they'd feel each other's vents.

Prowl sat down and looked at the door, feeling exposed. His doorwings twitched against the chair's doorwing-incompatible back. He looked down at his hands. What does a mech do with their hands without a desk or a datapad? He folded them in his lap, only to have flashbacks of Enforcer training orientations. He placed his arms on the armrests but he wasn't sure if it looked approachable. He crossed and uncrossed his arms until he heard a knock and ended up dropping his arms in his laps, leaving them loosely resting.

"Hi?" Bluestreak asked as he entered, looking nervous. "Prowl, you okay? Ratchet wasn't giving anything away and I know he usually doesn't if it's not life-and-death, but then I wasn't sure why he was comm'ing us." He stepped inside enough for Smokescreen to peer around Bluestreak as he followed. "But you look okay so you’re okay, right?”

"I'm fine. My tac-set is completely offline. Please sit," Prowl pointed to the chairs with an open, upturned hand. Deliberate openness wasn’t _exactly_ a new challenge, but not one he’d grown used to undergoing.

"Has something gone wrong?" Bluestreak asked, immediately worrying. He sat in a chair but leaned as close as he could to Prowl. Smokescreen looked alarm as well, sitting halfway on edge of his chair.

"There's been some irregularities of late," Prowl carefully answer, taking measures to ensure Bluestreak didn’t worry any more than what he was prone to doing. "It's nothing for your concern because Ratchet’s addressing it. My hope was that perhaps we could talk while we wait the next seven breems before it's turned back on."

“Talk about what?”

“What we attempted to talk about back in my office.”

Smokescreen accused, “You said I didn’t have to do that if I agreed to take the work.”

“I agreed to not talking about it then. Now that my tac-set is off and I cannot work, I thought we might try again. What’s happened between you two?”

Smokescreen shrugged irritably. “Dunno why the tac-set being off matters that much, but it’s nothing you need to know.”

Bluestreak chewed his lip and shifted positions, torn between not wanting to disclose what was bothering him, and wanting to see how much of a difference brotherly actions were by Prowl with his tac-set off. He remembered how Prowl went along with more family time without it. Or at least as much family time as Smokescreen allowed, and that was the problem.

His decision was made. “Smokescreen’s gambling has gotten way worse! Like intolerably worse!”

"I don't have a gambling problem!"

"Yes you do! Even the Twins think so," Bluestreak snapped.

"The Twins _oh-so_ do _not_ think I have a gambling problem _,"_ Smokescreen scoffed. "They're from Kaon. They know what gambling problems are, with mechs losing limbs and livelihoods."

"Exactly!" Bluestreak flung his arms, suddenly letting the dam of his feelings release its gates. "They know what gambling problems look like, they've seen it go from something friendly to something deadly. They've seen it plenty in all forms and all states, and they're the ones who pointed it out to me! And you know why they told me? Because I was complaining about how I noticed how you kept flaking out on me and Prowl when he was healing! How you stayed up late gambling when he was still not cleared medically safe to recharge alone.

"Why do you think they let you and your overcharge aft hang around them while they were working on prepping for demolitions? Problem was they were waiting on me to fetch you, but Hide beat me to it."

"Are you claiming that they're saying I –an Autobot who's never gambled with weapons, medicine, critical energon, or lives – have a gambling problem? Are you sure you aren't over imagining it? Because I’m sure you are."

Prowl tried stopping the conversation from degrading further. "I - "

"Over imagining it? Over freaking _imagining it_! Did I imagine the package I had to drop off because you got yourself tossed into the brig and would miss the deadline? I don't even know what I was dropping off. Maybe I was dropping off something serious, because all I knew was you had a package that absolutely had to go out and _something something-something_ - _slurred-something_ was why you were drinking to calm your nerves."

Prowl's wide optics shifted back and forth. "When did this conversation happen? Before Ironhide's appearance or after?"

"Geez, you need to relax," Smokescreen snapped back at Bluestreak, not even hearing Prowl. "It was small collateral for an upcoming major sports game. Mining tool scraps I pocketed from a game with a Tarnish ‘Bot. The package had to be delivered because we're so many time zones away from the game, and international gambling usually has a bit of a lead time."

"For what? What’s the bet, and what could possibly drive you to drink over a game where supposedly the risk is having less clutter in your quarters?"

"I wasn't drinking over the game bet!" Smokescreen angrily blurted out. "I've been gambling for far too long to have to drink away any low losses I _might_ have."

"Yeah, yeah, you've been gambling since bootcamp for active duty in hot zones. I've heard the stories. I went to camp after you."

"Try again! I've been gambling since I was a mechling. How do you think our family made ends meet when we found out about Prowl?" As soon as their cousin's name left his vocalizer Smokescreen came to a sudden stop.

Prowl's optics couldn't get any wider. "What do I have to do with this?"

"Nothing. Look, I'm sorry I said something. I was just lashing out," Smokescreen backtracked. "Blue and I came here because we were worried about you. Now we've seen your fine, I promise you that nothing bad was going on earlier. I was drinking because of other things that I don't want to talk about, and everyone is blowing up this 'Smokey has a gambling problem' thing out of proportion. It's not a problem if you almost always win and never lose anything important."

Prowl rubbed his face, now hurting from extended confused staring. "That is far more information that I expected, and I'm not sure how much of it fits into my limited expectations of the outcome of this conversation, let alone how to process it," he confessed, seeing no real answer to Smokescreen’s reply.

Smokescreen shrugged. "Look at the bright side: no worries about tac-set crashes."

"The tac-set and I are more robust than that. Usually."

Bluestreak kept anxiously glancing between the two before finally asking, "This is killing me. What's Prowl's got to do with you starting a lifelong gambling problem?"

"Argh! Am I getting out of this? I said I was sorry. That I was just lashing out."

"No," Prowl and Bluestreak replied, the youngest more vehemently than the older one.

"Fine, but don't get mad or hurt over this. Okay? You know how when our creators found out about Prowl and his dead creators, we brought him home immediately. For a little while our creators were fine because they were granted emergency power over Prowl's creators’ estate. But our creators had originally only planned on two healthy creations, so a third youngling with health problems was unexpected. But we all loved Prowl and worked with him, right? It's just his creator's money and liquidated assets went to funeral arrangements, paying off their debts, Prowl's medical bills, and then some of his schooling for special youths.

“At that point the money ran out, and our creators' were trying to regulate normal living costs with balancing Prowl's remaining specialty schooling costs, my schooling, and even some of Blue's schooling. I got what work I could as a mechling, but that wasn't much. So I learned how to gamble. Turned out I had a good enough teacher and enough of a knack for it to pay for my own schooling and send some back that our creators didn’t have to always work instead of being a part of Blue's life."

Smokescreen hunched over and wrapped his arms around his torso. “See, I don’t have a gambling problem? There’s gambling and then there’s _gambling_ , as in never stopping gambling. I can control it. I have been controlling it for a long time now.”

Bluestreak and Prowl looked at each other with their own mixed feelings. For Bluestreak, knowing that his sparklinghood was partly paid by Smokescreen’s gambling warred with his anger over Smoke missing family events, or Blue having to do a package drop-off because his gambling had gotten so bad even the Twins were worried. Prowl’s inner thoughts were torn between his schooling costs being also paid by Smokescreen’s gambling and that Smokescreen had easily gambled away Prowl’s personal information during Prowl’s troubled times.

For over a breem no one spoke. Finally Prowl managed to find some words. “I didn’t realize what a burden it put on you to care for our family, particularly my addition.”

Smokescreen’s posture straightened and his arms loosened. “That wasn’t what I was getting at. You drive me up the wall more times than not, but I love you Prowl. Technically being cousins be damned, you’re my brother. If I had to go back and do it over again, I’d do it again every time.”

Bluestreak murmured, “But that’s kind of the problem, isn’t it?”

Smokescreen cycled his vents slowly. “I don’t know. Maybe, but likely not. No, most likely not. You can’t tell me I have a problem when it almost always comes out right.”

“But you’re missing family things now,” Bluestreak gently reminded him, his tone must softer now that his anger was replaced by guilt. “You were there less and less for Prowl when he was sick.”

Smokescreen groaned, unwrapping his arms to rub his temples. “How did this go from ‘Prowl’s in Medbay’ to an intervention?”

Prowl offered only a small helpless shrug. “I wanted to solve my brothers’ problem so there wasn’t so much tension. How this happened I don’t know, and I have no idea how to categorize this.”

Smokescreen barked a short laugh. “You would try to categorize this, even with your tac-set off. How about we just say it’s the ‘rollercoaster of family problems’ and call it good? It’s not like we’ve got the blandest family. I promise to leave Bluestreak out of my bets, and Prowl I promise to not do stupid things like get drunk to the point I have to be collected by an officer.”

Prowl realized they still hadn’t gotten to solving why Smokescreen was drunk when he was by the twins. He’d respect his brother’s request to let him keep the cause to himself, for now. Clearly there was at least one more pressing matter. “Smokescreen, why are you gambling with this particular bet? I know you have other bets around the base that I pretend not to notice. Don’t protest their existence, we both know I give you some leeway on the ‘morale boost’ bets. How does this bet fit into those?”

That question stumped Smokescreen. This had always been a sticky point between the pair and the biggest reason they didn’t hang out. Prowl disclosing that he gave leeway was unmistakably new.

While Smokescreen soundlessly opened his mouth a few times Prowl received a comm. from Ratchet. ::Ready? Ten breems have passed::

::Alas, I am not. I wish I was, but our discussion has taken a turn I never anticipated. While I’m loathed to keep my tac-set off, I think this warrants doing so.::

::Whoa, never thought I’d hear you say that. You sure are full of surprises of late. Do you need any help? Is everyone okay?::

::No one needs medical intervention, thank you. I need to focus on my in-person conversation. I’ll let you know ASAP once I’m free to turn back on my tac-set.::

Smokescreen finally had an answer. “Having Earth money is never a bad thing. What if we had to expedite something? That costs extra money.”

“Were you going to donate the money to our financial reserves?”

“Not immediately. Maybe not ever, if nothing happened,” he admitted.

“When’s the next new bet?” For all of the “do not go Enforcer” advice from Jazz, his Enforcer training did teach him a few tricks on handling addicts. He only wished he wasn’t just now noticing it. The lack of being able to read body language was a bit of problem, he admitted to himself.

“What makes you think there’s a next bet? Besides the ones around base that fall under ‘morale boosters.’”

“At this point I suspect there’s always another bet, beyond the established ones on base.”

Smokescreen’s optics dropped to his lap. “I haven’t given the collateral yet. I can skip it.”

Bluestreak didn’t believe him, but he did his best to not directly or rudely call him out on it. “How are you going to skip it? There’s probably a grace period of few Earth days to offer something, right?”

“Smokescreen, look at me,” Prowl firmly requested. When Smokescreen’s optics lifted up Prowl continued. “What non-gambling activities would you like to do? I know we’re all busy, but perhaps when you have free time one of us can be with you, doing something else you want.”

Smokescreen stared into Prowl’s optics. He couldn’t see beyond the outside lens, but there was a sort of _feel_ to his optics that wasn’t there when his tac-set was powered on. There was this softer sense to those optics, less sharp edges or icy focused glow in every look. The look of a genuine mech and not a walking advance computer. It warmed his spark to hear his brother say words he’d literally never heard since their youth. “Racing. High-grade drinking games.”

“I can’t simply drink high-grade, but I’ll race with you out in the desert. Tomorrow, after our shifts?” A part of Prowl didn’t want to offer. He was already stretched thin, but he couldn’t very well ignore something like this. He was hoping Jazz would understand. Perhaps Jazz could use the time to spend it with Blaster or other friends.

“Yeah, and I’m not that busy so I can join you,” Bluestreak chipped into the conversation. “Plus since I’m not that busy you call me anytime, anywhere, no matter what. I’m there, even if I’m restricted to just comm’s. Which is pretty rare, but I have to say it, ‘cause snipers can’t always promise to be there. Sometimes not even on comm’s, but I swear one of us will tell you if that happens. You understand, right?”

“Yes, I understand, Blue,” Smokescreen grinned. “I’ve had plenty of comm. conversations with you about what assignments you don’t like. I bet so has Prowl.”

“Yes, I have.”

“Oh yeah,” Bluestreak blushed. “So we’re okay for now? I can take Smokey back with me and maybe we can hang with Sides and Sunny?”

“I’m alright with that,” Prowl answered.

“Sure,” Smokescreen reluctantly agreed. “I’m betting – sorry, guessing – that you aren’t going to let me watch a game later?”

“Nope.”

The diversionary tactician groaned. “I’m going to be climbing the walls.”

“That’s kind of why I want the twins there. Hey, Prowl’s smiling!”

Prowl snapped his helm back at the unexpectedly sudden transition to him. “Am I not allowed to?”

“Of course you are! I just wasn’t expecting it, since you don’t ever do it so honestly.”

“I’m simply pleased that this worked out better than last time I tried breeching the conversation.”

Bluestreak beamed at the not-exactly-a-compliment but somehow felt like one. “Do you need to see Ratchet now?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, not telling them he wanted to see Ratchet over two breems ago.

“Okay, well we’re off. Be seeing you after tomorrow’s shift!”


	10. Chapter 10

Onlining after his tac-set was restarted was similarly as odd as the first time. There was one major difference: this time he felt accomplished, even refreshed. He did something on his own, without the AI prompting him, or at least trying to prompt him. Granted, it started off with yelling and some flailing limbs, but his brothers calmed down and he even had a solution to the family problems.

‘ _Perhaps I should consider this more often for personal problems_ ,’ he mused before trying to quickly banish that thought. It didn’t disappear, as it lead him back to how his tac-set wanted him to incapacitate Jazz during his nightmare. ‘ _The Decepticons can attack anytime,_ ’ he argued with himself.

There was no denying that the Decepticons would not be doing anything for at least a deca-orn. He theoretically could do this once an orn without consequence, up to the earliest date the Decepticons might try something. Besides, the tac-set would have to be on when he was recharging with Jazz, so it might not make a difference anyways. Not unless there was a safe, non-hackable way to turn it off and on for him, without causing problems.

Why was he even entertaining this? Being able to better listen to his spark would never be on equal footing as providing the resources of a mobile battle tac-set.

“Feeling better?” Ratchet asked.

“Yes, much.”

“Good. Hopefully it’ll feel more like when we repaired your processor of that emotions damage.”

Prowl gritted his dentae, fighting hard to not show Ratchet what his thoughts were on that, and that he didn’t need the reminder. “I feel better,” he repeated. “Please excuse me; I have work to do.”

“Shocking. See you later. Have fun with your personal time.”

Prowl made it back to his quarters, opting to skip the Coff-E for now so he didn’t taste like sludge. Knowing Jazz, if Prowl was giving him his time, then Jazz would put an amorous touch to it since it was still close enough to the mission for the Polyhexian’s heightened needs.

Prowl worked until late before there was a ping to his commlink. ::Come on over. Remember, hallway is safe because this is for painting with privacy. Most get that.::

::Understood. Wrapping up my datapads now.::

::Okay. You better not bring any over here! Do so and I’ll paint it, screen included.::

::But… fine.::

Prowl stored and saved all his data and progress, and then trekked passed Ironhide’s closed door to Jazz’s. The door opened and Prowl stepped inside. "How's the agent?" Prowl greeted.

"Fine enough. I've got the situation handled for now," Jazz paused to yawn, "and monitoring systems set up should something happen. Plus Communications know to comm. me if anything comes in. I told them _anything_."

"So your time is split between here and work? What a strange sense; I'm not used to sharing your with your work like this."

"Hey, mech, now it’s your turn to know what I feel when you work late. I got the paint equipment set up in the washracks but I didn't bother dragging the TV or any other entertainment. You'll just have to settle for me.”

"Your entertainment value alone is hardly settling."

Jazz half-smiled, his energy having depleted faster than he anticipated due to all the work items, considering he lost significant useful recharge. He promised to make time for this repainting and he strongly intended to follow through. "Time to strip, Prowler!"

Prowl stepped into the washrack, dreading the worst part of a new paint job, or at least tied with small detailing for that title. "You aren't planning to do that to my chevron and doorwings, are you?"

"Yes I am. When I comm.'ed Sunny and asked him what he suggested, he got a tad too excited. Excited for him, anyways." Jazz tapped a close bag. "I got all the brushes and strippers and fixin's for Praxian detailing and sensitive spots here. Apparently I'm not the only one who's noticed your mismatching touchup paint. Now get in my shower."

Prowl grumbled as he did as told. Jazz hooked up the main stripping brush pad to a paint chip collector, a bag attached on the opposite end. "Okie dokie, here we go."

Jazz made quick work of all the large-to-medium non-sensitive parts. When he was switching tools for the doorwings he spoke to the mostly-stripped mech, "Almost forgot to ask. What did you say to Hide?"

"I told him that it would benefit anyone working in this corridor to have a storage space and that he would benefit the most from the move due to his socializing and responsibilities."

"Okay, so far nothing strange," Jazz murmured as he started up the quiet and soft strip pad for the doorwings. Prowl automatically brought all sensors down to near zero sensitivity. "Keep going."

"He mentioned being surprised that I was pushing it through so quickly. I explained to him that I didn't want to leave him or our administrative process in limbo."

"And what he'd say?"

"He accepted it, all around. He did ask me if I had more to say, but I said no."

Jazz turned off the pad. "What _exactly_ did he say?"

"He said 'if that's all you got to say about me moving.'"

" _How_ did he say it?"

"He said it like how Ironhide normally asks such questions? I fail to see what you're worried about."

"Did his optics do something funny? Did his voice change inflection? Did he do something abnormal?"

"You know I often don't notice those things so well," Prowl chastised. "He left the office slower, watching me a little longer. I assumed he was a bit perplexed about me doing his paperwork so fast, as he had questioned."

Jazz groaned. "So many flaws in your assumption. Please tell me Hide is the only one you’ve had this kind of conversation with, like you didn’t tell anyone else about the move."

“Just Prime, but briefly. That reminds me, Ratchet saw my scratches.”

Jazz grimaced, both at the reminder of the harm he’d done to Prowl and the possibilities of Ratchet noticing damage. “I’m almost loathed to ask, but what did the two of you say?”

“I told him it was caused by falling datapads. He called it poor luck.”

“What happened next?”

“I tried to satisfy his curiosity and any dissuade any thoughts on repairs. I said you owned me a repaint, and then when he asked why you owned me a repaint I said you caused me to drop the datapads.”

Jazz facepalmed with one freed hand. His voice was almost strained when he asked, “What happened next?”

“I’m not really sure. Ratchet became quiet and stared at me. Much like how Ironhide stared at me, now that I think about it. Plus he kept mentioning privacy. Am I doing something wrong?”

“I almost can’t handle that question. I don’t even know where to start. Wait, maybe I do. I got an idea.” Jazz set down the tool. "I was going to hold off until I was further along to give you something, but I think I should give it to you now and just tinker as I can. Wait here."

Jazz returned in less than a breem, holding a box. "I made you a present. Open it."

Prowl took the box and carefully opened the lid. "A yellow visor?" Unlike Jazz’s, this one actually had a cutout for a standard-size nose, like Prowl’s.

"Yeah. It occurred to me when we were pre-mission-debriefing the other orn that you could use some help reading others. Then I thought you should probably just have an interpreter. Put it on."

"I have no hookup points."

"I know, which is why you have to recharge it when you recharge. It works independently of your systems, unlike mine."

Prowl obliged, but spoke with some confused concern. "It's yellow. I don’t have any yellow paint."

"No, but your paint job and optics basically limit you to matching me or matching a Decepticon. So you get one of my 'blank' spares, and I thought yellow would go better than emerald green. I’ve got clear but that would be weird because everyone could see what the visor is doing and what it does… well, test it out to see what I mean."

Prowl pushed it around on his still-painted face until it sat comfortably on his nose and by his helm. "Now what?"

Jazz narrowed one optic, turned his helm slightly, and smirked. This was better than answering.

Suddenly the optic movement, helm profile change, and downward mouth movement were highlighted on Prowl's visor. Across the bottom flashed "Possible emotions: smug satisfaction, coy, pleasure."

Prowl was taken aback by it. "What is this?"

"It's your emotions reader for helping you understand others! Or it's your emotions interpreter, depending how you use it." Jazz clapped his hands and smiled.

The visor highlighted the movements and popped up a small list of content, pleasure, or enthusiasm. Prowl commented, "It's not entirely exact."

"It's a work-in-progress that I'm giving you way earlier than I was planning. As it is, I only did slight modifications from the downloaded physiatrist's database on watching for emotional responses to therapy. It’ll give you the most likely database hits, so it’ll probably return more than one. I added the framework for my visors’ adaptive learning coding."

"That’s really thoughtful and resourceful, thank you, but I don’t think I can wear a visor around base." Prowl pulled it off. “Not without some serious questioning and suspicion.”

"Already thought of that. Tell people it's tactical. Special Ops tactical that I’m giving you to better grasp our operations from an agent’s POV. No one's going to argue with you upping your tact game, and mechs know I have that kind of personality to push Ops training on another department affecting my own."

"I'm still not sure this will work."

"Just try it for me, okay? Be my beta-tester."

"Isn't this more like alpha-testing, given I’m the target audience of one?"

"No, because I’m making it and I did try it. I'm alpha, you're beta. Now get your _beta_ in the show so we can keep working."

"What about Ironhide?"

"I'll deal with him. Somehow. Plus Ratchet, somehow. You just focus on trying out that visor tomorrow." Jazz gently took it from Prowl's hand and placed it back in the box for safekeeping.

Considering the effort time and the relatively-low energy both had, Jazz managed to completely strip Prowl of all paint in record time without hurting the mech once. Jazz asked, "So, blacks, whites, greys, and red where they were before?"

"Yes. I have no desire to change my paint job."

"Not even, say, with yellow painted decals? Like a cop?"

Jazz pinged Prowl with some pictures. "When I was finishing up I thought about your point that yellow doesn't really belong. I ran an image search and came back with some human cop car paint decals."

"I can't have any human symbols I'm not sanctioned by their government to have."

"So no Sherriff stars or whatever. What about Cybertronian? I remember little stem-less arrow things Iacon Enforcer had. Did Praxian Enforcers have them? Don’t see them on the human photos so they can’t mean anything government-regulated here."

Prowl considered Jazz’s points, as well as the efforts Jazz put into gifting him an object for his benefit. “In Praxus it depended on criteria I never opted to see if I qualified. While you prepare, I’ll consider it and the criteria more carefully.”

“Awesome,” Jazz grinned. He mixed all colors, keeping red in a smaller paint pot. He pinged the latest shift in paint supplies to bring him a small yellow pot, just in case.

Halfway through, when the pot was dropped off, Prowl finally gave an answer. “I’ll allow the yellow Enforcer symbols.” He wasn’t sure if it was smart or not to go with something from his ruined home, but there was a rush of memories he didn’t want to push aside. Before Jazz could comment, he murmured allowed the new thought, “Still, who knows how this will affect others, an officer wearing pre-war markings?”

“If for the best, then you should totally positively affect ‘em; if for the worst, then to Pit with them and their problems. Send me photos of the specific Praxian Enforcer symbols.”

“The stemless arrows are fine.” Still, he pinged Jazz photos of the decals mounted on Enforcer shoulders.

Jazz worked swiftly for the smaller areas, without detailing the yellow. Painting the chevron had Prowl’s face twitching but he said nothing. Jazz suspected it was ticklish under the brush but he wasn’t about to irk Prowl by asking if he was losing to a tickling sensation.

“Okay, so a pair of shoulder-wide stem-less downward arrows on each shoulder?” He asked, holding a brush and a straight flat stick for painting the outlines.

“Let’s not do the full shoulder width. Maybe half, or less, to keep it somewhat subtle and a little less like our pre-war world.”

Jazz drew an outline of one small arrow, near the top of Prowl’s shoulder and pointing downward. “These should totally be pointing to something. Like those bars or grills new cars have, or something. Ooh! You should get handle bars on your shoulders!”

“Why?”

“Why not? Plus then It’ll be easier to do this,” Jazz suddenly straightened his full height to sneak a kiss to Prowl’s watchful bowed helm. “But without having to wait until you’re looking down to sneak attack you like that.”

“I’ll… consider it.” Littler flurries of energy in his spark, timed to Jazz’s actions and words, said “do it.” The idea of frame changes for non-work related reasons was unquantifiable and he didn’t like that, but he didn’t like the idea of not considering it, either. Life had far too many questions these orns.

The longest part of the repaint and bane of Jazz’s tired focus was making sure the arrows lined up perfectly across the two shoulders, even with the right tools. When the last stroke colored in the last arrow, Jazz happily declared, “Ta da! You’re now completely painted… except for your interfacing equipment,” he added with a smirk.

“No. Absolutely not. I’m not sitting through that right now.”

“Obviously. You aren’t supposed to _sit_ through it. At all.”

Prowl supplied only a very pointed glare. “I don’t need it and I’m too tired to go through that,” he countered, opting for the easy out.

Jazz sighed, “Yeah, me too. Except now I’m kind of too turned on to recharge. Maybe a quickie, hmmm?”

“I don’t think that would be wise with our energy levels.”

“I didn’t say a hard and fast quickie. Hardlines are totally back on the plate now. Help me put this stuff away, because regardless what happens we have to do that.”

Never let it be that Jazz couldn’t formulate subtle plans for getting what he wanted. The two cleaned the equipment, with only a few “slips” by Jazz. One of those slips somehow managed to get drops of paint on his aft. “Oops,” Jazz said demurely, slowly cleaning it off with his hips cocked to the side.

Prowl figured out exactly what Jazz was doing with his exaggerated movements but found himself in a similar situation as Jazz of a building charge before he could stop it. He pretended not to notice.

His efforts to not react were noticed and served to encourage Jazz. The saboteur kept finding ways to carefully pick items off the floor in inappropriate poses, and then arching his back when coming back up.

With everything packed, Jazz licked his lips and said in a slow, low voice, “ _Aaahhhhh_ , everything’s packed. Managed to _stuff_ everything.”

To the Pit with it; Jazz wasn’t the only one capable of surprises. Prowl took a deep in-vent and moved before his nerves could stop him. He grabbed Jazz tightly, kissing him borderline hard on the lips while pushing him towards the sink.

Jazz’s surprise that Prowl initiated ended when he rewarded it with wrapping one leg around Prowl’s waist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Prowl’s look includes smaller versions of his shoulder markings in IDW’s MTMTE Shadowplay, with TF: Prime visor – when he actually wears it.
> 
> I didn’t come up with the idea of Jazz using handle bars on Prowl’s shoulders. That’s made its way around Tumblr a few times, on account of answering the question “Why does IDW Prowl have shoulder bars?”


	11. Chapter 11

Prowl fiddled with the visor, trying to get a feel for something he figured he’d never wear by choice. He wasn’t sold on wearing it now, but he promised Jazz he’d try it out. Since he was still in Jazz’s quarters, being watched by the very mech, he figured he should practice wearing it now.

“You need it higher on your nose. Right now you got librarian glasses.”

“I don’t recognize the reference.”

“There’s shows have elder human ladies wearing their glasses halfway down their nose.”

Prowl pushed the visor up until it was close to his optics. “This will give me double HUD readings.”

Jazz shrugged. “I hope not. I did think about that, and I have some ideas. Tell you what: for every orn you wear it for at least ten breems, I’ll work on it before recharge.”

“That assumes we’ll always be recharging together, or I’ll be at least handing it off to you at some point.”

“I prefer the former, given how much trouble we’re going through to get Hide to move.”

“Not to sound petty, but how much trouble are you going through to get Ironhide to move?”

Jazz snorted, his grimaced expression triggering Prowl’s new visor to include the word “rueful”. “Trust me, I’m going to be doing some fancy word play over it soon enough.”

“Why are you rueful?”

“Huh? Slag, the visor’s already getting used against me. Isn’t it?”

Prowl’s lip twitched into a small smile. “Your intent to have me understand others better does include you. It may or may not work in your favor.”

“Well, let’s just say I’m not so much feeling rueful so much as dread. Was ‘dread’ on the list?”

“Yes, it was the second option.”

“Okay, so not so bad. Is the list still up?”

“No, not since your expression changed to ‘deadpan annoyance.’”

“Hmm. I have another idea, but I’m still holding you to our agreement,” Jazz said. “I’ll get it set up so you can somehow tell its adaptive programming which word was the right one if you figure it out, or someone just flat out tells you.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about other seeing me wear a visor.”

“Ow, the pain in my spark. How about in your office with at least one brother? They’ll understand.”

“Fine, I can accept that.” Prowl took off the visor and put it back in its box. “I’ll see you later this orn, then?”

“Yup, that’s the plan.”

Prowl kissed Jazz with his usual goodbye peck, when he was leaving Jazz’s quarters. “See you later.”

After exiting his own quarters he carried his box with him intending on dropping it off at his office. However, his first stop happened in the hallway, since carrying around a box was a beacon of interest for certain personalities.

“Hey, Prowl, what’s that?!” One such personality called out.

“Sideswipe, it’s not polite to yell down hallways, especially at shift change.” Prowl turned to see both twins coming from his side.

“Yeah,” Sunstreaker grumbled, “some of us are tired.”

“I told you never to polish before a shift,” Sideswipe dismissed the complaint. Prowl quickly queried his tac-set and found that the twins were coming off of their shift. That partially explained Sideswipe’s wide optics and yelling, and Sunstreaker’s complaining.

Sideswipe switched back to Prowl. “Anyway, what’s in the box?”

“The innards of a box.”

“You’re so hilarious. Now seriously, what’s in the box?”

“Nothing that concerns you.”

“What’s in the box, what’s in the box, what’s…” Sideswipe started rapidly chanting.

Prowl groaned and pressed his free hand against his temple. “You were scheduled for patrol. Why are you so wound up? I make sure to favor exhausting duties with you, Sideswipe.”

“Our patrol route had mud problems. Sunstreaker spent the time fussing, and I was super annoyed at how slow we had to drive. So I have like _all this_ energy leftover. What’s in the box?”

Prowl sighed, debating on ordering Sideswipe to leave him alone or just showing him. The first would likely end up with a retribution prank involving a box. Possibly Prowl onlining inside a box.

“Fine, I’ll show you. Only in my office, and you have to bring me Coff-E afterwards.”

“Deal!”

Sunstreaker muttered, “Stop sounding so excited about things you don’t know. You just signed up for extra work, and you have no idea if it’s worth it.”

“It must be worth something if he didn’t want to tell me the first time,” Sideswipe smugly replied. “Plus we get to go to his office to be super-secret about it.”

Prowl rebutted, “It’s not super-secret. Just new.”

“Whatever you say.”

Prowl preferred one of his brothers to be the first mech besides Jazz for trying his visor, but Sideswipe’s current mood was very expressive and likely a quick way to find any bugs. He wasn’t about to tell Sideswipe the visor’s purpose, however.

Once all three settled in chairs in his office, Prowl pulled out the visor. Before he put it on Sideswipe pouted. “Talk about a letdown. You accessorizing for whatever weird reason with something that doesn’t match – oh hey, when did you get a new paint job – is not worth the extra work of bringing you stuff.”

Prowl put on the visor. “Jazz thought a visor might aid in tactical operations that oversee Special Operations.”

“What’s it do?”

The visor popped up a small list with “intrigue.” Prowl answered, “It does a few things, including focusing on suspicious natures.”

The next words to pop up included “suspicious.” Sideswipe drew back. “Oh. You’re not gonna wear that around base are you? You look kind of silly. Almost like a librarian trying out a racer’s UV-protected sunglasses.”

Prowl ignored the last part, seeing words scroll with every micro-expression twitch of Sideswipe’s face. Sunstreaker remained “guarded,” thankfully. “I’m testing it out. Given that we have a decent-size pool of suspicious characters, I think it’s best to try it out before the Decepticons make their appearance.”

The twins exchanged weary looks. Prowl’s visor highlighted both of their faces, marking who was what. “What did you two do?”

“What do you ever mean?”

“Cut out the angelic look. I can see trouble in your optics.”

Sideswipe quickly replied, “That visor isn’t an official interrogation tool. Anything it gives you is inadmissible in court.”

“I can quote the exact paragraph in regulations that this visor falls under for pre-authorized detection tools, but I’d rather ban you from watching television and have you research it during it.”

Both twins groaned, Sideswipe’s a little louder and Sunstreaker’s grumpier. Sunstreaker whined, “Can’t you just ban Sides from watching racecar and law-type shows?”

“Why on Earth are you watching law shows?”

“Uhhh… for the drama?” Prowl didn’t need the visor to know Sideswipe was lying, but it told him anyways. The visor might be handy for picking apart exactly what was lies the Autobot used.

“Do explain. In detail,” he started, folding his hands and paying close attention.

Meanwhile, during the Prowl’s impromptu questioning of the twins, Jazz was knocking on Ironhide’s quarters.

“Who is it?”

“Jazz.”

A slight pause and then, “Come in.”

Jazz practically sauntered into the room, keeping his body language as nonchalant as possible. “How’s the vacation, my mech? About over, right?”

Ironhide was drinking energon while lazily relaxing on his couch, his non-fiction reading datapad resting on his lap. “Yup, last orn. What brings you here?”

“Ran into Prowl and he mentioned my plans for this hallway are now underworks. I asked him how you took the news and if he gave away my master plan. The way he described it sounded like Prowl botched the whole thing, trying to keep it quiet until I can proof it out.”

“You got a secret plan you trying to pull over my optics?”

“Sorta. You know how I installed all those defensive systems in our quarters?”

Ironhide snorted. “I still trip over it, time to time.”

“I can mod your new room so you don’t,” Jazz offered. “Not why I’m here, though. Just wanted to sound less creepy or however he put it. Sounded like maybe Prowl made me sound creepy about it.”

“Actually, he didn’t _specifically_ mention you…” his optics narrowed subtly.

“What did he exactly say?”

“He claimed it was for construction purposes, for my benefit, later to house a new officer, and that he’d push the administrative documents through quickly.”

“Ah. Well, the idea is the back section of your room,” Jazz gestured to the wall along the emergency tunnel, “would be turned into a secret closet of weapons for the tunnel. That way, if we’re being forced to abandon our quarters we can do it with the right Big Guns and other handheld weapons. The rest of the room, I guess, Prowl is planning on it serving construction purposes for now. You know Prowl; always double-planning and never explaining himself well, if it ain’t tactical.”

Ironhide watched him for a solid kliks before relaxing. “I thought he was being strange.”

“Yeah, well that’s our Prowl. He’s in the running for being Number Two oddball for Command.”

“He’s competing with you.”

Actually, Jazz felt like at times he was competing with Red Alert for Number One, but otherwise was far from second place. Special Ops at times made him just as paranoid as the Security Director, but at least he didn’t spark during his episodes.

He laughed anyways and mused, “I hope it’s not a close race.”

“You wish. Anything else I can do for you?”

“Nope, just hope your move goes smooth so I can have fun planning out the tunnel’s weapon storage. Later.” Jazz left, trying to figure out how to use a similar same story for Ratchet. Something about being energetic about it enough to startle Prowl into dropping datapads. The wicked ideas he had were not appropriate.

Jazz managed to catch Ratchet while he was cleaning his tools to prep for some preventative maintenance upcoming appointments. “What’s up, my mech?”

“General Medbay life,” Ratchet grunted. “Please tell me you aren’t here for some idiocy that injured you.”

“Nope, I hear because it sounded like Prowl made me all creepy in his explanation why I was repainting him.”

“Creepy is not the term I’d use,” Ratchet carefully said, putting down his tools. He turned to better face Jazz. “More like he covering for you and it resulted in some close personal time.”

That was so much worse than what Prowl suggested. “Prowl is the kind of mech who’d call a repaint ‘close personal time.’ As for covering for me, I don’t see how dancing that I was off-shift counts as needing coverage.”

“That’s the second time you injured Prowl by dancing. Never done that to anyone else, though.”

Medics were always too sharp for Jazz’s own good. “What so strange about the TIC and SIC running into each other, even if it’s a tad literal? We have plenty of meetings.”

“Meetings you dance to?”

What was the last lie he told about how he bent Prowl’s chevron? “Hey mech, what I do in the hallways to keep myself entertained is my own business. It’s just twice now been Prowl’s business. Why are you curious? Wish I’d dance into you?” Jazz waggled his optic ridges, flirting with Ratchet. That should throw him off.

It appeared to work. “Stop that,” the medic nearly growled. “I don’t need you pretend flirting.”

“Aw, but pretend flirting is fun.”

“Whatever. Just stop dancing in the hallways and hurting Prowl unless – ” Ratchet cut himself off, swore, and then finished. “If you need private time with him, do it without injury.”

“I don’t need private time with him. That was a one-time thing.”

“Sure.”

|||||

Slightly over three deca-orns later, one half deca-orn after Ironhide had successfully finished moving, and two orns after all construction was finished, every Autobots not on monitor duty were standing outside. The soldiers jostled in place, excited for the new arrivals, while Command remained somewhere between stoic and inviting. Red Alert was mildly medicated to keep him calm around the new arrivals, making him more stoic than his usual suspicious nature. He was still suspicious, but he wasn’t jumpy.

Ratchet nudged Prowl when Blaster informed them that the transportation shuttle was about to enter the atmosphere. “Put on your visor. You’ve got that ‘I’m onto all of you’ look, and I didn’t bring Red’s meds with me.”

Prowl sighed and pulled the upgraded yellow visor from his subspace. Those that weren’t troublemakers grew to like the visor. Best that Prowl could understand it had something to do with disrupting his reputation as cold. Not that others were warming up to him, but they seemed less put-off. Perhaps it had to do with his optics.

He was still getting used to have emotions literally written in front of his face. One-on-one was okay, and Jazz had the code written to stop displaying words or indicators if it detected more than five faces. Prowl didn’t realize how often he was scolding small groups of 2-5 mechs until he had the upgraded visor.

“Everyone, attention,” Optimus’s loud voice carried over the scuffling. “Here they come.”

Prowl watched the dot in the sky grow into a shuttle, and he hoped this would make the difference in whatever the Decepticons were planning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm skipping forward a little to kick the plot off a little faster.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m taking some liberties with the only other Praxian I could find on TFWiki, Sideburn. I don’t know anything about the _Wings Universe_ besides what I read in his profile, but I really want another Praxian. He actually looks and is fully Praxian here, and not “glitched” to look different. Except for his blue/yellow chevron. That’s cute.
> 
> Also, I’m not as good at grammar as Ultra Magnus, but I swear I’ll try.

Prowl watched carefully when Ultra Magnus walked off first, the officer in charge of the transporter. He wasn’t moving into the base but Optimus wanted to catch up with him in person. Prowl had mix feelings about the officer, despite their similarities. Perhaps they were too similar in some regards, with Magnus probably the only other mech that could quote regulations to the same extreme. At least Prowl wasn’t as bad about proper grammar, but then reading the unrelenting rambling reports of a few Autobots on base probably made the difference.

“Ultra Magnus, reporting for duty,” he started, saluting to Optimus.

“At ease,” Optimus said. “Are the transferees ready?”

“Yes.” At his signal the ramp was filled with exiting mechs, numbering a low thirty Autobots.

Prowl watched the mechs carefully, his doorwings minutely twitching involuntarily. He knew his brothers’ were doing the same. There was one Praxian expected to arrive and no notifications he missed the transport.

The last of Autobots appeared and with them a blue/yellow Praxian. Prowl’s doorwings immediately flicked straight up and stilled. He watched the Praxian, Sideburn, as the new arrivals lined up. Sideburn’s records suggested that he was Prowl’s opposite, but Prowl was willing to try.

“Welcome,” Prime began.

Prowl half-listened to Prime’s memorized speech summarizing Earth, the base, and the (approved) local Autobot mottos. His main focus was searching the arrivals, letting his tac-set file and categorize each observed mech. It compared files to how well they stood at attention. It noted a few mechs clearly developed bad habits, their backs not entirely straight or shoulders slouched. Prowl was a bit surprised at that, given Ultra Magnus surely had them stand at attention at least once. Someone probably distracted him with bad grammar.

Eventually the two groups were broken up into small groups, half of the established Earth Autobots mingling with the new ones. Each group was assigned tour starting locations, approved talking points, and leaders were given datapads with new arrivals’ information on their quarters.

Prowl watched Earth Autobots not assigned to support transferees working their ways towards their regular assignments or outside, most of those being the less social mechs. Sideswipe was part of a group, but Sunstreaker was moving inside towards the shipping docks.

When the groups were inside, Prowl started his own visit to each of the groups, focusing on ones he suspected would involve unauthorized talking points.

“Psst, Prowl,” he heard Jazz loudly whisper behind him.

He stopped and turn. “Yes?”

“Stop stalking Autobots. Don’t you have admin stuff to process, like what Magnus and the new officer brought?”

“Probably. I prefer making sure no one develops bad habits first.”

“Relax; I got this. No new bad habits forming during the tour, I promise.”

Prowl stared, deadpan. “Please tell me you don’t think you’re being clever. I can clearly see your _mischievous_ intentions.”

Jazz’s smirk didn’t shrink. “Nah, just not being a liar.”

He supposed he couldn’t promise anything better, in a practical sense. “Just be vigilant.”

“You got it.”

Reluctantly, Prowl left to join Ultra Magnus, Prime, and the new temporary officer in the conference room. Powerflash was supposed to be the cross between himself and Red Alert, if gossip was right. Regardless of the gossip, he was recommended as an officer who needed a calmer assignment and very capable of taking over Autobot-human regulations. Prowl wanted him as a buffer between the officers and bad reports that were somehow still getting routed to Command. There was a distinct possibility Powerflash’s assignment would not be as calm as hoped.

The trio were sitting down and in mid-discussion, but Prime broke off when he saw Prowl enter. “Hello, Prowl. Have you met Powerflash?”

“No. Good to meet you, Powerflash.”

“It’s good to meet you, sir.” Powerflash stood at attention but Prime raised his hand.

Optimus said to him, “No need to continue that from here on out. We aren’t so formal here. It’d be rather tedious if we were.”

Powerflash’s lack of facial markers for expression gave neither Prowl nor his visor any help on what the mech thought of that. Prowl mentally marked down to tell Jazz that the visor wasn’t registering expressions for mouth-less mechs with built-in visors. They had expressions, right?

Prime’s comment had Ultra Magnus frowning with slight disapproval, or so his upgraded visor told him. The upgrade usually generated shorter lists, and Magnus’s reading had only one listed.

Despite Magnus’s disapproval his said nothing about it. “Prowl, it’s good to see you again.”

“And you, it’s good to see you as well.”

“We were just discussing what duties Powerflash will be taking over, and what duties I will be fulfilling after I leave.”

“You aren’t resuming your post?” Prowl questioned as he sat down.

“Not precisely.” Both Ultra Magnus and Prime delved into their plans that weren’t made aware to Prowl. He absently pondered why that was the case, but his focus was primarily on the pair.

Their conversation about Ultra Magnus touring the bases went late, and long after Ironhide collected Powerflash to give him a private tour once the soldiers were done. Prowl ignored his own fuel notifications, focusing on how the visor told him Prime’s squinting optics and shuffling body language suggested discomfort.

Prime finally said why. “Prowl, I’m thinking of handing the assignment to refill the Wreckers to Ultra Magnus.”

“Why? I have a list of names. They’re being vetted by the nearest qualified Autobot now.”

“I know, and Magnus will finish making sure those Autobots meet the Wreckers’ standards while he tours the bases. As you pointed out, there’s some Decepticon activity here that aligns with Springer’s report. While we work on incorporating the new forces here I think it’ll be best to have those off-base handled by Autobots also off-base.”

Prowl’s coolant seemed to be not working as efficiently any longer, especially around his audios. “Finding qualified Autobots for the Wreckers is not an easy task, and making sure to find a team that can handle our suspicions is another factor for consideration. I have a list of twenty names, and the top five are being vetted now,” he repeated with a little more elaboration.

“Perhaps then you and Magnus can work on it together.”

He didn’t like the suggestion, and Ultra Magnus’s downward mouth implied he felt the same. Still professional officers, they both agreed.

Prime nodded, seemingly satisfied. “I’m done for the orn, if you both are.”

“I am,” Ultra Magnus responded.

“As am I.”

“Good. I’ll see you both at the staff meeting.”

Prowl nodded and left first, Magnus’s and Prime’s conversation switching to a more personal one as they slowly stood. Prowl’s peds carried him past his office and to Jazz’s. He didn’t know if the mech was there, but surely he had to be writing up reports on how the integration went?

When his knocks and pings went unanswered he finally comm’ed the mech. ::Jazz?::

::What’s up?::

::Where are you?::

::Sparkling-sitting some of the new recruits who want to go out exploring on their own.::

::Do you have time to talk privately?::

::Uh, like over the commlink?:: Jazz asked. ::I’m not sure when I’ll get free for an in-person discussion.::

Prowl’s shoulders and doorwings minutely sagged. He straightened out his posture and started retracing his steps back to his own office. ::I’d like to talk in-person. I can wait.::

::Sure. Worst case scenario you fall into recharge before I get back, you can tell me when you online. I promise to listen even if I’m tired.::

::I won’t force you to hold to that promise.::

::Alright, but – ah, slag. Gotta go. Someone’s trying to sneak out. Later!:: Jazz closed the line before Prowl could say goodbye.

Prowl took off the visor and started working at his terminal, letting his tac-set be the connection between new datapads and his terminal. He focused wholly on the reports until a new one popped up from Ultra Magnus, the mech ever punctual on filing his reports.

[[New AI initiated action… recommendation: providing Officer Ultra Magnus with only the top five names on the Wreckers list.]]

[[That’s tantamount to sabotage. A waste of his efforts, if he has to double-back for any of the next five names.]]

The AI showed him all the joors he logged addressing the Wreckers’ problems. [[Officer Ultra Magnus is not properly debriefed on the current situation. There is a 79.2349% chance he won’t be fully knowledgeable why the top five are the best candidates. The next five are also not in the process of being vetted and will waste time if the top five are the best candidates.]]

That was true, that Ultra Magnus was not as aware as him of the Earth situation or of the Wreckers latest report. Even if Prowl or Prime further debriefed him on those reports, truly understanding the way the Wreckers report may intersect with the Earth reports was difficult without an Earth background.

Ultimately he ended up concurring with his tac-set and set forth on creating a basic report on the top five candidates only, not feeling too compelled to include the vast amount of details he studied on each one. If Ultra Magnus was going to see them in person, he could determine those details himself.


	13. Chapter 13

Prowl worked on the Wreckers reports, crafting them for Ultra Magnus to meet Prowl’s purposes, until he’d grown too tired, waiting on a comm. from Jazz. When none came he resigned himself to return to his quarters alone. It was when he entered the hallway with all the Officers’ quarters did his senses shift to alert, and not for good reasons.

“Hello again, Ultra Magnus?” Prowl greet as he saw Ultra Magnus and Prime standing at Ironhide’s old quarters. “What are you doing here?”

Prime answered. “We’re seeing if it would be better to turn this back into an Officer’s quarter instead of storage. Renovations are nearly complete.”

“How long will Ultra Magnus be staying then? I was under the understanding that Ultra Magnus would be staying in his quarters on his ship.”

“Yes,” Prime continued, “but now that he’ll be staying here longer to work the Wreckers project, I thought he should have proper quarters. After he leaves, and should Powerflash still be needed here, then Powerflash can be moved from the soldiers’ quarters to here.”

Prowl’s spark skipped a pulse. No, no, _no._ Ultra Magnus was a very quiet mech and would surely notice the slightest sound of someone slipping through the tunnels. Jazz was as silent as they came, but he wasn’t infallible. Not to mention Jazz might miss this development and not know to be silent.

Prowl tried, “Perhaps another orn we can discuss this? There’s little possibility of getting all of the renovation equipment out before Ultra Magnus needs to recharge, and I think it would be difficult on the soldiers if we make them walk long distances to wherever we newly store the equipment.”

Ultra Magnus nodded. “Inefficiency in soldier operations would not be ideal, since time would be lost during their shifts moving around the equipment. Prime, I think we should consider better solutions after we recharge so that I may stay here but not hinder operations.”

“Of course, friend. Come to my quarters and let’s share energon before you depart.”

“I would appreciate that.”

The two entered Prime’s quarters and Prowl hurried to his, pinging Jazz with a message to meet him before recharge. Jazz sent a quick confirmation that he would be by within five breems. Prowl fiddled more than worked on his datapads, his senses heightened and his motor servos jittery.

Jazz entered his room with a tired grin. “What’s up?” he greeted.

Prowl decided to start with the latest development and work backwards. “Ultra Magnus will be moving into Ironhide’s old room. I stopped them before they could do it before recharge, but they will do it soon enough, I’d wager.”

Jazz’s face dropped and his shoulders sagged. “But I worked so hard on getting us privacy and freedom. Why does an officer whose only current role is to bring a batch of troops need a room?”

“That’s the other reason I wanted to talk to you.” Prowl gestured to his berth and they both sat down. Jazz’s back straightened and he folded his legs as he turned to face Prowl. The tactician started after Jazz’s silent attention was on him. “Prime feels that I’m inadequate for the Wreckers issues.”

“No way, Prime doesn’t think you’re inadequate.”

“He expressed concerns and that he first wanted Ultra Magnus to take over. I persuaded him to forgo that, but he decided instead that Ultra Magnus and I work together.”

“I see,” Jazz hummed. “You do have the biggest datapad workload of all of us, and that’s really saying something.”

“That’s what Powerflash is for,” Prowl pointed out.

“Right, but newbs take time and Ultra Magnus can jump right on the bandwagon for Wreckers. It’s not like he’s new to picking out troops.” Jazz rubbed Prowl’s shoulder.

“They don’t understand that you can’t take anyone who wants to be a Wrecker and sign them up for a trial run.”

“You’ve never done that? Just curious,” he defended when Prowl's expression grow a little more pointed.

“Everyone who gets a chance is someone who wants to be a Wrecker. Not everyone who wants to be a Wrecker gets a chance. Trial by Wrecker is usually trial by mission. As I’m sure you recall, the Wreckers have a high mortality rate.”

“It’s why they need new bodies.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, you don’t have to feel too bad about it. It’s not like Mags is some small-time officer who’s never organized troops before. Plus he’s got the mobility you don’t have, and trying to work with distant groups while you’re stuck is damn hard. I would know. Maybe that’s all Prime was thinking; you’re stuck doing a bunch of things here, and Mags has a ship,” Jazz suggested.

He considered the last point. “A transporter ship, not a space hopper.”

“Yup! He’s got the kind you need to bring new forces to the Wreckers. It’s not like Springer’s gonna stop stalking that Decepticon and double back for pickups.”

Prowl considered Jazz’s logic. If it was Prime’s logic then it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. If only he or his tac-set thought of it, he wouldn’t have wasted energy on being insulted. In a way he was disappointed in his tac-set for not coming up with that scenario.

His disappointment triggered the tac-set’s AI into massive data dumping on why it’d put that option so low on the list as to not show Prowl. [[Prowl’s default settings to show top three in non-combat situations, depending on criticalness. Classified as ultra-low criticality, three reasons were shown; Jazz’s suggestion was fifth possible reason.]]

It would’ve been nice to know the lesser insulting reasons, but then the tac-set didn’t care about Prowl’s mental wellbeing, beyond functionality.

[[Barricade takes into account more and more of Prowl’s mental wellbeing.]]

[[Go on standby.]] Prowl internally sighed, tired of how more often Barricade was coming up, as if the programming was slowly adapting to Ratchet’s efforts. They found the only way to really return it to AI-status was to turn it off for a minimum of ten breems, and most of the time Prowl wasn’t willing until intel came back saying it was safe. There was a certain part of him that wanted to do it more often, ever since successfully solving a problem with his brothers without it. Most of him rejected that, on the basis the Decepticons weren’t positively identified as nowhere near ready for attacking.

“Your logic is sound,” Prowl told Jazz.

“My logic is always sound.”

“Your typical definition of ‘logic’ keeps you interesting.”

“Glad to know it’s my mind that’s interesting and not my hot frame,” Jazz laughed. “Now, since it might be our last recharge until we can get this Mags’ thing sorted out, how about we have some fun?”

Jazz leaned over and nibbled on Prowl's audial. "If this might be the last time in a while I get to have you without having to devise some brilliant cover story, then I want it to last as long as it can."

Prowl's vents hitched and he recovered by kissing Jazz on the collar armor. He echoed Jazz's movements by running his hand along Jazz's arm, but Jazz's fingers played more with his seams. The saboteur transferred his nibbling from an audial to the edge of a chevron. Prowl refused to moan so early into Jazz's touches. Instead he went for Jazz's sure-fire hot spot, just as Jazz was going for his. A white hand rubbed a black audial horn, while the other hand lazily slide up Jazz's side, making sure to elongate each touch on its long road up Jazz's lithe body.

Jazz grinned at Prowl pushing the pace. He loved it when the reserved mech, one who once didn't quite seem to know what affection beyond what family meant, took charge with such intimate matters. The trust Prowl put into him to let Prowl explore himself was cherished by Jazz, just the same as any of Prowl's wanton touches.

Jazz decided he'd let Prowl set the first round's pace. If things went his way there would be at least one more round. "Sweetspark," he whispered, "do what you want. I want your every touch." He brushed his lips close to Prowl's cheek. "Every sensation you give me, every position you put me in, I want it."

Prowl shivered under Jazz's permission to take his partner. Prowl had mix feelings about taking charge, although none of them bad the more he did it. Jazz was sensational and Prowl used to fear being unable to partake in all that Jazz was. The fear still existed, but it was buried beneath unabashed need, something that took Prowl time to accept.

Prowl leaned into Jazz, using his chassis and hands to guide Jazz just far enough back that he was leaning but not laying down. Jazz's hands fell behind him to hold him up. Prowl kissed Jazz as he brought his hands back to Jazz's hips so he could steady himself on the saboteur. After he was sure of his balance, Prowl broke off the kiss with a lip bite to the playful Jazz's lips and began kissing Jazz's chin and neck.

Prowl kept following a trail downward while using his fingers to massage Jazz's hips. Whenever a finger brushed a seam he dug in a little. When he reached Jazz's bumper he decided to deviate and work his mouth along the bumper instead of up it.

Jazz, enjoying the touch, wanted to lie down but knew part of the fun was seeing how long he could hold up before giving into the feel of Prowl's ministrations. He wasn't about to remain listless about Prowl's effect on him, however. Although Prowl might lead, that didn't mean Prowl got to do all of the work. Jazz rotated one leg until it was pressed up against Prowl's side and he began to slowly rub Prowl's torso in slow circles. His ped playfully rubbed harder Prowl's hip when his ped rounded by.

Prowl stumbled when Jazz's ped first teased his hip, but he recovered by deeply licking a seam. Jazz moaned and pushed his bumper into Prowl's warm glossa. Prowl kissed the seam as he took away his glossa and moved so he could align himself to go back down Jazz's body.

Jazz wanted to guide Prowl back up to his bumper but he kept his promise to let Prowl lead. As Prowl went down he lightly pushed Jazz back until the saboteur was laying flat. Prowl started off light as he kissed Jazz's interface seams, bringing his hands back into the mix by rubbing Jazz's inner thighs.

Prowl leaned up onto his elbows, earning a muffled protest from Jazz. Instead he kept his hands running along Jazz's inner seams, moving his way to the interface seams.

Jazz let his panels open, encouraging Prowl to speed up his ministrations. Prowl wasn't going to do so, however. Instead he started kissing Jazz's hips and his hands trailed down to the back of Jazz's knees, a secret hotspot for the Porsche. Jazz's hips bucked as Prowl's fingers found their spot and his legs spasmed.

Jazz moaned, "Stop teasing. We only have so long and I want at least one more round."

Prowl offered him a rare smile. "I'll stop teasing when I'm ready to move onto your valve."

The thought of that had Jazz pressurizing and lubricating at the same time. He hoped Prowl wouldn't hold out much longer. He did know one trick to getting Prowl to hurry up: praise.

"You're so amazing," Jazz started. "Truly, your mind amazes me all the time with its tactical brilliance and sharpness, and then there's your body. The way it moves, especially on or below me, just makes me want to overload looking at it."

Prowl's engine revved and his spike cover opened so his spike could pressurize. He moved up and gave Jazz a passionate kiss.

When his lips released Jazz, the TIC continued. "No one does reports like you." Normally talking about work would turn anyone off, but not Prowl. He lived for his work, something Jazz planned to slowly change, so his praise kink included even his reports. "You get through so many so fast and complete, I'm sure Prime admires them. I know I do. I cherish every report your write." That was sort of a lie, but what was a little lie to get him some action?

It worked. Prowl's fingers toyed with Jazz's valve lips before sinking one into the folds. He slowly worked Jazz's valve until it was safe to add another finger. When Jazz's calipers were loose enough Prowl lined himself up with Jazz's valve and started off at a slow pace.

Jazz wanted it faster and started moaning any praise he could think of giving, from Prowl's perfect form to his success in working with his new visor. It took a little longer than Jazz wanted, since he wanted a fast pace now, but Prowl sped up almost as fast as Jazz yearned.

Jazz's overload hit first, his own mind worked up about how he could affect Prowl with just his words. Prowl was shortly after Jazz, hearing his name on Jazz's lips. He sank down carefully, draping his form along Jazz's.

Jazz waited until his fans cooled down. He grinned. "My turn."

|||||

Jazz and Prowl parted ways before they would report to the staff meeting to officially introduce Powerflash and notify the rest of the officers of Ultra Magnus’ new (and hopefully temporary) role. Prowl put on his visor and left, taking his time to pass through the base to observe the new mechs. His optics caught sight of blue/yellow doorwings in the Rec Room, talking to blue/red doorwings. For probably the first time since Praxus fell, he considered being the first to start a social activity with a stranger. Chances are Smokescreen would introduce him so it wasn’t entirely out of nowhere?

[[New AI initiated action… Barricade recommendation: delay non-duty activities until after analysis. Procure Coff-E before staff.]]

[[I can wait until after staff.]]

[[Do it anyways.]]

This is why Prowl was starting to turn his tac-set off for ten breems. He moved as invisibly as an officer could through a crowd of soldiers until he was close enough to hear what Sideburn and Smokescreen were discussing.

“What do you do for fun?” Sideburn asked.

“Not much these orns. Racing.”

“Yeah? Any one particularly fast?”

“Sure, plenty.”

“Anyone fast enough to compete against Blurr?”

“Yeah, I’d lay odds on…” Smokescreen’s words died slowly. “I mean, gambling is banned here.”

“Aw, that’s no fun. I put odds on myself all the time, what with Elite Guard activities.”

“You were in the Elite Guard?”

“How’d you think I ended up here?”

Prowl didn’t recall that being on Sideburn’s record, but then he didn’t personally memorize it or waste tac-set memory on it either. He ignored it for now, well aware of the visor telling him that Smokescreen was silently but visually struggling once he started talking about odds. He could see Smokescreen’s struggles persisting, suggesting there was something gambling-worthy about why Sideburn was here.

“Good orn,” Prowl greeted the pair. “I’m Prowl.”

Sideburn snapped to attention, completely forgetting Smokescreen. “Good orn, sir.”

“At ease. As I’m sure someone has told you by now, Prime isn’t as keen as most officers for maintaining protocols all the time. It is acceptable to observe his mannerisms.”

“Thank you, sir. Prowl.” His doorwings relaxed and moved in an old Praxian greeting.

That surprised Prowl. He’d grown used to keeping his doorwings voluntarily as still as possible, preventing flying Seekers from reading their ‘words’ and know Autobot plans. Prowl returned the gesture, feeling more foreign than familiar.

“Sir, uh Prowl, why the grimace?”

He wasn’t sure and mulled over the use of the visor telling him what he was showing. Whatever emotion he was feeling wasn’t strong enough for him to actual notice it.

Smokescreen figured Prowl out quick. “We don’t use doorwing speak so much here. Starscream and his trine know Praxian speak. So do a few other Seekers.”

“What about around base?”

“I guess it’s just habit to never let our guard down.”

“That sounds terrible, to not be safe in your own base.”

Prowl replied, “It’s merely habit. Don’t let it worry you.” He switched conversation before there was any painful reminiscing of their home. “What bases have you been to? Have you met other Praxians at them?”

The trio talked briefly until Prowl had to leave and quickly make his way to the Officers conference room. When he entered, Ultra Magnus was sitting in Prowl’s chair and talking to Prime.

Optimus saw Prowl. “Hello, Prowl. Magnus and I are just catching up. Do you want your chair back?”

“It’s fine.” He sat down near the opposite end, where the guests usually sat.

Ultra Magnus looked conflicted, as indicated by the flickering readings, but ultimately turned curious. “I’ve been meaning to ask, when did you get a visor?”

“Only a little bit ago. Originally its purpose was to assist me in understanding the Special Operations side of tactical planning, but it helps me find troublemakers. Those that aren’t troublemakers seem to like it.”

“It matches the new yellow in your paint job. When did you get that paint job? In the vorns I’ve known you, you’ve never deviated from black and white.”

Prime’s interest peaked as well. “If I recall correctly, Jazz helped you with that?”

“Yes. According to him, my touchup paint no longer matched my base paint. He offered to remedy the situation and used it to negate any argument I had about wearing a yellow visor. However, I don’t need it for this meeting.” He softly set it aside, his optics adjusting to the non-filtered lighting.

“Sounds like a Special Ops agent.” Ultra Magnus’s commented, always a little suspicious of Special Ops credence.

Shortly later Jazz strolled into the room, and looked around to see his chair and one guest chair empty. “Well, if Prowl’s gonna change up order, I might as well, too. Can’t let him be the spontaneous one.” Jazz sat down between Prowl and Powerflash.

Prime’s optics crinkled into a smile. “Prowl wasn’t being spontaneous, he was allowing Magnus to take his chair.”

“Ah well, I’m here anyways.”

“Now that everyone is here, let’s begin with introductions. Everyone, this is Powerflash.”

Everyone listened to Powerflash introduce himself and his history, answering questions about how well he thought he could solve the various smaller officer problems.

After Prowl introduced himself to Powerflash in a more official manner, the group moved onto Ratchet. The medic just said, “I’m Ratchet, the CMO and aft kicker of those who injure themselves for no good reason.”

“Ratchet, please,” Prime began when Ratchet stopped, “you’re more than the CMO and resident reminder why one should consider safety first.”

“Fine, then. Be prepared to know why I’m the ‘resident reminder’ of safety first if you misbehave.” Ratchet launched into a far more detailed account of his responsibilities, both Prime-appointed and self-appointed in a partly-ominous voice.

Jazz was growing bored, well versed in all of Ratchet’s duties and extra activities. While as SIC and TIC they normally sat by each other, their chairs weren’t normally this close. When Ratchet got onto his part in reducing the number of mischievous incidents, Jazz had a mischievous idea of his own.

He tapped his ped against Prowl’s. Prowl’s ped push his away. Jazz did it again.

::What are you doing?::

::Playing ‘footsie.’::

::What is that?::

::A game of sneaking play between two mechs.:: Jazz tapped Prowl’s ped again. ::See how no one knows?::

::Red Alert will notice these strange movements of us wiggling in our chairs.:: When Jazz kept it up, Prowl carefully held himself rigid even as he quickly but carefully kicked Jazz. ::Stop it.::

::Aw, but after Ratchet is Hide and I’m already bored.::

::It’s no worse than when Perceptor and someone from sciences gets caught up in presenting data-based planning.::

::And I wanted to disappear under the table for the last one. This is an improvement.::

::I’ll concede that this is an improvement,:: Prowl allowed. ::I will not yield to your playfulness.::

::Oh, I’ll make you yield.::

Prowl managed to ignore Jazz’s ped tapping a beat against his until the end of Ironhide’s intro. When everyone turned to Prime, Optimus dryly said, “I think my name gives away my duties well enough.” Everyone chuckled and Prowl used that to cover up a swift kick to Jazz’s outer ped edge.

Jazz’s laughter went up an octave, but Prowl heard his AI over the noise. [[Barricade recommends less ineffective activities. Recommendation: focus on schedule verification.]]

[[How do I verify the schedules are being followed by the new arrivals if I don’t have access to a terminal?]] The question was meant to be redundant.

[[Priority rate which duties should be checked first before data analysis. After data analysis, recheck priority duties and then check remaining duties.]]

The tac-set started doing its own recommendation without Prowl’s acceptance. That “attitude” was actually starting to annoy him, and for him to notice an emotion really said something.

[[Barricade - ]] it started.

[[Don’t. Go on standby and remain quiet unless I send you a request.]]

Almost miraculously the tac-set AI did go on standby. Prowl was well aware it could violate that at any time. Perhaps a quick visit to Ratchet was in order, after he checked the duty rosters to make sure all of the assigned new soldiers had reported in for their duties.

Prime began, “Let’s get down to business. Prowl, what about the Decepticon movements?”

Prowl sat forward, pressing his elbows into the table. “I requested frequent updates from the Wreckers, at least twice an orn. Springer has agreed to once every other orn, or per discovery. Special Ops, Communications, and monitoring duty have been watching the Decepticons for any signs of local Decepticon movement.”

That was the opening for Jazz. The Head of Special Ops, and frequent overseer of Communications, simply said, “Nope, no reason to be concerned yet. Just the occasional energon attacks.” Indeed, while they had no major movement from Decepticons, there were always the randomized attacks on Earth for energon sources.

Prowl added, “Those have been less frequent, suggesting the Decepticons have a new and hidden source. We’re monitoring and scouting for that." Abruptly he switched back to the main topic. “From Springer’s report, the pattern of movement has become erratic. At this point we might want to consider setting up meetings to discuss this very topic.”

Ironhide and Ratchet groaned. Prowl glanced at them. “Ratchet, you would not be necessary.”

“A minor miracle.”

Ironhide asked, “Can I not be necessary?”

“No.”

Ironhide muttered quietly, too quietly to be heard by anyone not beside him.

Ultra Magnus spoke up. “The Wreckers are tracking the attacks, correct?”

“Yes,” Prowl answered.

“I want to talk to Springer at his next report-in. I’ve had a bit of success dealing with Wreckers.”

Prowl didn’t know how the other mech could have a positive influence on the Wreckers, but there was no logical reason to deny him this. “I’ll let you know as soon as I have an incoming transmission,” he said over his tac-set trying to start back up.

“Thank you.”

Prime asked, “If we can wait until Springer’s report, let’s discuss any further suspected or confirmed activity from the Decepticons. Until then, let's finish this meeting. Magnus, Prowl, schedule another meeting once Springer has reported in."

"Understood," Ultra Magnus replied.

"I will schedule that meeting as soon as our debriefing with Springer is complete," Prowl answered.

After a quick discussion about the limited repair supplies that Ratchet had available they separated and went their ways to either their offices or to oversee the troops. Prowl went to his office alone, strangely missing Jazz's antics. He both did and didn't appreciate Jazz's game of footsie. Although it was unprofessional, no one played anything with him before now, as a mech. It was a perplexing state of mind, and it didn't help when his tac-set tried interjecting it's "facts" into the matter, about how Prowl's thoughts were inefficient use of time. Prowl tried to ignore them but it interrupted his thoughts each time.

Prowl forcefully put his mind back to the rosters and did his best to focus on them. He managed to get through them, but not without wistfully thinking about Jazz. Naturally each time his tac-set told him to get back to work. By the end of roster checking he was irritated. He would visit Ratchet, and perhaps Jazz afterwards.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't get your hopes up with me posting this so soon after the last chapter. I start going back to school next week for first time in years, and this time I'll be doing it while working.

Prowl waited in Ratchet’s office to have his tac-set turned off. As normal by now, the tac-set was making a fuss about dangers to the Autobots if it was shut off. He was ready and not ready to comm. Jazz and ask him to meet him in one of Ratchet's private rooms. Prowl fiddled with his visor, reminding himself that he wouldn't be alone. Jazz's "essence" (aka his visor) would be helping him talk to Jazz, in a way.

::Jazz?::

::Yo, what's up?::

::Would you mind meeting me in Medbay in two breems?::

::What happened?:: Jazz demanded, the saboteur not caring about the panic in his voice.

::Nothing important, Ratchet will be working on my tac-set in a breem and I thought you and I could talk while it resets.::

::Oh, thank Primus,:: Jazz ex-vented in relief. ::Yeah, I can make time for you. Be there in 2, 2.5 breems.::

Jazz would soon be on his way. Prowl ex-vented at the thought. They were about to have a conversation with Prowl being... something besides his normal self. He still hadn't defined himself without the tac-set operating.

"Ready?" Ratchet interrupted.

"Yes. Jazz will be here to talk to me after you're done. Please let us talk in a private room." Prowl knew the private rooms were empty.

Ratchet's optic ridges shot up. "Alright," he said, and Prowl's visor told him Ratchet was curious. He refused to elaborate, remembering Jazz's reaction the last time Prowl talked to Ironhide and tried making an elaborate excuse.

Instead Prowl just laid on the berth and powered down for Ratchet. When he woke he immediately pinged his chronometer to see how long he had before Jazz would show up. He had less than a half breem. He didn’t know what to say to Jazz, other than some sort of discussion. Who would open first? If Prowl, what could he say?

“Knock, knock,” Jazz announced with actual knocking. Prowl mentally kicked Jazz for showing up early. When did that ever happen?

"Ratchet is letting us use the back room," Prowl said smoother than he felt.

"Lead the way," Jazz responded.

Prowl lead the way, consumed with thoughts on what to do. Why did he think this was a good idea? He should have just left it alone. That's what he and Jazz had been doing, letting whatever came of their relationship come.

Primus, he had no idea what to do and he called this meeting. He could feel his chassis constricting and his energon heat up as he entered the room. He fumbled, "How are you doing?"

"Uh, okay...?" Jazz scratched his helm. "Did you call me just to ask how I'm doing?"

"No, of course not." Prowl tried again, opting for honesty. It's work so far around Jazz. "I wanted to confess that while it's inappropriate to play footsie at a meeting, or really anywhere besides our quarters, I still appreciated that you wanted to engage in some sort of fun with me."

"Well, yeah. You can be fun," Jazz said. Granted, it was a fun that took Jazz some getting used to because they were largely board games and debating finer points of books they were reading, but it was fun to match wits with Prowl. It wasn't one-sided, for Prowl was getting used to Jazz's music and watching the saboteur dance to the quieter music. If it were a slow song with established dance moves Prowl would sometimes join Jazz.

"Really?" Nobody called him fun.

"Sure. I know the game at staff was pushing you a little, but that's just the way I'm wired. If someone wants me to back off, they have no problem telling me. Or kicking me," Jazz said with a playful nudge.

"You know you deserved that," Prowl replied, feeling the tension in his chassis lessen.

"I know. Doesn't mean I won't try again."

Prowl muttered and Jazz gave a wolfish grin. The Porsche demurely said, "How much longer before Ratchet gets you?"

"A few more breems, why?" Prowl was confused, even with the visor trying to help him.

"I'm thinking we've never fooled around before in Medbay." Jazz's voice dropped to a whisper. "Plus a few breems is more than enough time for a quickie."

Prowl's spark fluttered fast. "No, we can't."

"But it'd be so hot, so naughty."

"Don't make me kick you again."

Jazz laughed. "Okay, fine. No more pushing."

Prowl relaxed again, until Jazz spoke. "Now what? You want to tell me why you're rebooting your tac-set?"

"My tac-set has been acting up from time-to-time and I find it easier to reboot it than fight it." Perhaps that was over simplifying it, but he didn't want to admit to anyone but Ratchet how problematic his tac-set AI was becoming, and even then he only gave Ratchet the basics. It wasn't like he couldn't trust Jazz, he just didn't want Jazz to worry. The last time his tac-set completely acted up Prowl lost control of his body.

"Cool, cool, I guess. Well, if there's nothing else..." Jazz trailed off.

"Actually, there is. We can use this time to talk about your reports."

Jazz groaned. "Mech, I'm going to write you a report on how you know to dissipate a charge. I'm sitting here half-charged from the thought of a tryst in Medbay, and you want to talk work."

Prowl just smirked.

|||||

To the bane of Jazz's and Prowl's existence, Ultra Magnus sort of took the quarters between them. Ultra Magnus didn't need the quarters during his online hours, choosing to work at all times, but sleep on a berth when it was his recharge period. During the orn there was construction where the soldiers pulled their tools from Magnus's quarters, and no work permitted when Magnus returned.

Jazz was frustrated. He tried to get Prowl to meet him in a training room, but two things happened. One, Prowl was busy training Powerflash, working with Ultra Magnus, and still doing his own duties. Two, when Prowl actually had a moment Ironhide interceded and told Jazz to let the mech relax. Jazz found himself mad at Ironhide again, much like when Hide was his roadblock back when he lived between him and Prowl.

Prowl wasn't much better than Jazz, although pinning down his exact feelings on the matter was tough. In the end he filtered out his emotions as much as he could. It wasn't like he could do anything about it. At least, that's what he thought.

One orn after a deca-orn of living without getting to touch Jazz beyond staged accidents, Prowl was annoyed at his office. Why the clutter was bothering him now he didn't know, but he felt tightly wound just looking at it. He was supposed to have less of it with Powerflash now here! Was it just him or did he have more? Surely he didn't, but it felt like more.

He needed a bigger office. Barricade sprang to life, latching onto that thought. It showed him schematics of how to make his office bigger. The wall behind him and all the offices on his side of the hall were their size because of a hallway that used to exist behind them. Now it was crushed with rocks. If the soldiers could work on getting rid of the rocks they could expand the offices.

Where would he work in the meantime? Barricade supplied him with that answer as well. His quarters would work for regular routine and he could meet troublemakers at the brig, reminding them to behave with the cells right behind him.

Prowl took that one step further, realizing that he could make his last appointment of the orn with Jazz. Yes, he would do whatever it took to put this plan into place.

Luckily Prime's office shared a wall with his, making Prime's office roughly the same length. It was wider to account for Prime's size, but a Prime should have a grander office.

Prowl nearly trotted the short distance to Prime's office. "Good orn, Prime," he greeted the open door.

"Good orn, Prowl. What can I do for you?"

"I was considering some of the changes about to happen around here, how the soldiers would be wrapping up their work in our quarters' corridor soon. Perhaps they could enlarge our offices next?" Prowl pointed to the back wall. "There's no reason these quarters can be made longer."

Optimus mulled it over, rubbing his chin. "I suppose so. It seems having work to do has kept the troops from growing listless from the same activities of monitor duty and scouting. That's an excellent idea, Prowl. I could always use a bigger table." Optimus was referring to his table for private meetings.

"Precisely. We should get them started quickly." Prowl wasn't recharging well without Jazz, something he didn't expect, and he knew neither was Jazz.

"We can get them in here tomorrow to start the pre-construction process, but where would we work?"

Prowl gave Prime the rundown of his idea of how they could work, adding ideas as Optimus inquired. In the end Prime agreed and Prowl felt his spark flutter fast. Soon he would have Jazz back. He opted to end the conversation there and follow Barricade's suggestion of returning to work. Much was to be done to follow through with his plan.

Prowl worked hard, waiting for Jazz to return the message he left the TIC. He wanted to tell Jazz in person. Jazz never returned his message, and Prowl's body felt drained by the end of the orn.

Prowl returned to his quarters, fighting to keep his shoulders from sagging. He was going to recharge earlier than normal, he was sure. However, after he laid down he heard the slightest of noise. He popped up and grabbed his blaster. Out of his tunnel exit appeared Jazz with a blank expression.

"Hiya, Prowl." Jazz's tone wavered.

Prowl subspaced his blaster. "Jazz, what are you doing here? What if Ultra Magnus heard you?"

"Don't care. I need you." Jazz reached out for Prowl and Prowl glided to him, taking Jazz's form in his arms.

"What's happened?"

Jazz curled into Prowl's chassis. "Found out some of my agents died. Something about an attack that seemed erratic but was actually a coordinated strike."

"At Chiefton base?"

Jazz pulled slightly back, just enough to tilt his helm and look Prowl in the optics. "Yeah, how'd you know?"

Prowl ex-vented. "Springer just reported that his target deviated from his expected trajectory and struck Chiefton. He’s calling in tomorrow about it."

"Oh. Guess that explains that." Jazz returned to his curled position in Prowl's arms. He deeply ex-vented and then shuddered. "They were good agents. A couple of them were here on Earth. You know, that excerise-turned-mission where we found the Decepticons sneaking around."

"I'm sorry for your losses."

Jazz nodded but pulled away. He wrapped his arms around him. "I know as Head of Special Ops I shouldn't grieve my department's losses, Primus knows there are plenty of them, but I guess I care whenever I get to know someone." Jazz laughed, the sound hallow. "Guess the joke's on me."

Prowl knew the feeling, although perhaps not as strongly as Jazz. His companion was more in-tuned with that side of himself than Prowl would ever be or want to be. That being the case, Prowl did wish he was a little bit more in-tune so he could better empathize with Jazz.

He stepped forward and gathered Jazz back into his arms. "Let's recharge. You go lay down, I'll set up the security system."

"Thanks."

Prowl squeezed Jazz before slowly letting him go as Jazz slowly sauntered to Prowl's berth. Prowl was quick to set up the security system before going back to Jazz. He was worried for Jazz, and not just because Jazz was feeling upset. The last time Jazz was having problems with a mission he had a nightmare because it recalled a previous mission. Would the same happen?

"Jazz, whistle for me, please."

Jazz opened his mouth is surprise before leaning up. "Say what?"

"The whistle you give your Ops agents when you want to know they'll soon be safe." Prowl learned it, but wasn't sure he had it appropriately memorized.

"Why?"

How to explain that without tipping Jazz off that Prowl suspected a nightmare would come tonight and risk it becoming a self-fulfilled prophecy? "I think it would help you rest."

"Okay, it's like this." Jazz sat up better, legs hanging off the berth, and began quietly whistling the tune. Prowl gave it a try and found he was mostly accurate, but he did practice a few times with Jazz's assistance.

As the whistling died down Prowl could see Jazz fading. He felt tired too, but how could he recharge? He could at least pretend to do so for Jazz’s sake. Prowl crawled into the berth with Jazz and modified his own sensors to make Jazz feel more secure. "Have a good recharge, Jazz," Prowl prayed.

"You too."

Jazz fell into recharge very shortly after that, and Prowl studied Jazz's face intently. He mentally ran through the different tricks he and Jazz came up for pulling Jazz out of a nightmare. He had to remember it all.

[New AI initiated action… recommendation: work by Officer Jazz to watch him while staying ahead of work.]]

[[What is more important than watching Jazz?]]

[[AI Barricade did not recommend don't watch Officer Jazz, AI Barricade recommended to watch him while working.]]

Prowl turned his helm and looked at his desk. [[What if I let you crunch numbers while I watch Jazz?]]

[[AI Barricade finds this acceptable.]]

Prowl moved slowly to his desk and just as slowly back to the berth. He hardlined into the datapad but refused to go deeper into the datapad than what was necessary for the tac-set to work. Prowl kept his other hands by the hardline port, ready to rip it out.

It was not quite a joor when Jazz showed the first signs of restlessness. Was it a nightmare or just unpleasant dreams? Should he wake Jazz up so Jazz didn't suffer? He had looked awfully tired and this might be a passing distress.

Prowl pinged his tac-set. [[Disengage.]]

[[AI Barricade requests acceptable reason.]]

He didn’t owe it one, but still he gave a reason. [[Jazz is distressed. He may be having a nightmare shortly. I want to disengage now rather than moments too late.]]

[[AI Barricade disengaging datapad.]] Was it just Prowl or did the tac-set AI sound annoyed?

Prowl didn't get a chance to think any longer on that before Jazz instantly thrashed his arms, barely missing Prowl's face. Prowl promptly moved to avoid the next swing and began to whistle. It worked marginally and so Prowl repeated it. Jazz's thrashing quelled but he started whimpering and his visor remained dark. Prowl remembered what Jazz said about a soft caress at the base of his audial horns, something his carrier used to do when Jazz was sick.

Prowl reached over and started softly petting the base of Jazz's closest audial horn while continuing the whistling. "Come back to me, Jazz. You're safe here," he coaxed in-between whistles.

Jazz's visor brightened fast. "Pr-Prowl?" he called out with a shaky voice.

Prowl kept his ministrations on Jazz's helm. His other hand moved to pet Jazz's opposite cheek. "I'm here, sweetspark." Prowl fumbled a bit on the term of endearment, something he never said but Jazz did on occasion.

Jazz ex-vented slowly. He murmured, "How bad?"

Prowl understood the question referred to Jazz's outward reaction. "It was much calmer this time. No harm done."

Jazz caught Prowl's hand caressing his check. He turned it so he could at Prowl's palm and inner arm as if to convince it was nothing like the last time.

Prowl asked, "Was it bad?"

Jazz let go of Prowl's captured hand after giving it a feather-light kiss. "Not the worse I've had. Just another mission gone wrong, but not like the worst way it could have gone wrong." Jazz harshly laughed before clamming up. "I suppose I'm lucky it wasn't nearly as bad as it could've been, given I'm mourning the deaths of my agents."

"Lucky would be to be free of the curse of your nightmares. Do you think you can recharge again or do you want to stay up?"

"Can we watch some vids until we fall into recharge? I'd like to recharge thinking of some film instead of whatever wants to haunt me next time."

"Of course. Let me adjust the screen so we can see it."

Prowl adjusted the screen and found the movie that Jazz seemed to like the most of Prowl's collection, putting it on play. He laid down and wondered how he could gather Jazz in his arms without trying to coax Jazz into letting him recharge behind the saboteur.

"Jazz, scoot closer and up." Jazz looked at him with his mouth sideways but he did as told. When he was close enough for Prowl to manipulate, Prowl dropped his doorwings and gathered Jazz, resting the helm of his “friend" (for lack of better definition) on his shoulder to allow Jazz watch over his shoulder while Prowl held him. Prowl felt Jazz relax bit-by-bit until his helm slipped down and back, resting on Prowl's chin and his visor dim. Prowl didn't mind and could feel his spark tingle when contact was made. Prowl slowly rubbed Jazz's lower back and began singing softly the Praxian lullaby he taught Jazz. The saboteur began humming along, his voice dying as his visor went dark.

Prowl stayed awake, guarding Jazz from another nightmare.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I took Friday off to celebrate my last Friday w/o school, and ended up writing quite a bit.

It was barely morning before his tac-set dropped “AI” in front of “Barricade” and resumed telling him what to do on matters his tac-set shouldn’t be speaking. On matters his tac-set should be speaking, it seemed like it was pressuring him to do things like keep Ultra Magnus’s efforts away from his.

He sat there in the smallest conference room with Ultra Magnus, waiting for Springer to connect to their meeting. Barricade was almost preoccupied with Ultra Magnus and Springer, calculating the odds that they were working together and excluding Prowl. The tactician found it paranoid and didn’t like the paranoia now living inside his helm. After this he would confess his problems to Ratchet.

[[Barricade recommends not engaging Ratchet. Prowl has seen what Ratchet does when confronted with a problem of Prowl’s… emotional wellbeing. Prowl concerned that Barricade is impacting Prowl’s emotional wellbeing, correct?]]

Prowl hesitated. He wasn’t one to focus on such concerns. [[You’re attempts to find facts in conclusions you’ve made with little evidence is causing me concern.]] That wasn’t an answer but it was something.

[[Barricade will save the calculations and resume if more evidence is found,]] it sort of assured him. [[Barricade to focus on meeting occurring now.]]

Their meeting was getting started, with a series of beeps letting them know that Springer was connecting. In a klik there was Springer’s face, calling from his quarters that doubled as an office. At least, as much as any Wrecker would as an office.

“Prowl, Ultra Magnus,” the Wrecker greeted without any formalities.

Ultra Magnus replied first. “Good orn, Springer. What’s your status?”

Prowl simply echoed, “Good orn, Springer.”

Springer’s expression hardened. “I wouldn’t say it was a good orn. That blasted Decepticon group keeps getting away from us. All we can confirm now is that it’s gone from a couple of mechs to several more, thanks to some forensics mech messaging us to tell me more unique blasters being used.”

“That is unsettling,” Prowl responded.

“We need to devise a stronger plan,” Ultra Magnus said.

“I’ve got one,” Springer announced. “We know the group’s likely on their way to Earth, or Earth’s direction, so it’s time the Wreckers come to Earth.”

“No,” Prowl’s voice sharpened. His tac-set AI was flooding him with data on all the ways that could go wrong. “Doing that means you’re letting the other stations get attacked, that you aren’t going to try forecasting the Decepticon movements and saving the bases.”

Springer shrugged. “We aren’t rescuing them now with the crazy pattern the Decepticons are taking, why should I waste time thinking that now would be any different?”

Ultra Magnus frowned and Prowl’s visor popped up a few different explanations. Prowl resisted touching his forehelm, the double input from his visor and his tac-set AI giving him a helmache. Since one would not shut up despite repeated requests for standby mode, he opted just to take off the visor.

The taller mech in the room spoke as Prowl set down the visor. “I understand your point. Perhaps the potential new Wrecker recruitments can work Springer’s job now on their way to meet up with Springer and Springer and his current Wrecker team comes here. There’s no point in wasting the Wreckers and having them show up after the battle.”

There was a sound, cold logic to that, one that Prowl could appreciate if not for Jazz’s protesting voice in the back of his mind. “We’re to send new Wrecker-potentials into battles without experience to guide them?”

Springer snorted. “I have no use for Wreckers that can’t fight against the odds.”

Ultra Magnus added, “Springer’s team does not ‘guide’ anyone. Once Springer is here, the three of us can go over the final names and I will lead the new team as we return.”

[[Barricade recommends Ultra Magnus’s plan.]]

Prowl could see why. It got Ultra Magnus out of Barricade’s way, but it also possibly puts Ultra Magnus in harm’s way.

[[Why does Prowl care when it is logical to do Ultra Magnus’s plan?]]

That was a good point, Prowl thought. It wasn’t like he was volunteering Magnus for something dangerous. Magnus was a big mech and perfectly capable of making his own risky decisions. “I concur with that plan.”

“Good,” Ultra Magnus nodded. “When will you arrive, Springer?”

“I can be there in two orns.”

“I’ll prepare for departure in three.”

Prowl’s spark surged at those words, realizing his roadblock to recharging with Jazz would soon be gone. That was until Ultra Magnus said, “You can take my room.”

“Wreckers stay together.” Springer’s expression wavered. “I do need my current quarters repaired, though. Let’s just say there was an incident. I’ll use your quarters while my quarters get repaired.”

Prowl stifled a groan. Was it too much to ask that he get to recharge with Jazz?

The trio talked a few more details but all concurred that there was nothing that couldn’t wait before Springer arrived, now that he was abandoning hunting the Decepticon pack. When they separated Prowl thought hard about seeing Ratchet and confessing his hidden problems.

[[Barricade recommends against it.]] It started to list reasons why against Prowl's attempt to stop it, but the experience solidified Prowl's resolution to get help. He began walking to Ratchet’s when the tac-set pointed out it would quiet down if Prowl gave it work to do.

Prowl was uncertain what to do. He did have a lot of work waiting on him and if all it took to silence his AI from being a problem was to do his work, then a solution had presented itself. It wasn’t like he was getting to spend time relaxing, unless his brothers spent time with him. That was unlikely, unless he was pulled into helping Smokescreen resist his need to gamble. That was entirely possible once the new troops settled in the base. Prowl formulated a plan: work and then Ratchet, with a comm. to Bluestreak to verify everyone was okay.

It was long into the orn before Prowl realized he needed to stop working, and only because Ratchet would soon leave Medbay. Begrudgingly Prowl left, knowing his tac-set would protest and it did. He quickly walked to Medbay and saw Ratchet cleaning his tools as Prowl entered.

“Hello, Ratchet.”

Ratchet spared him a glance. “What’s up, Prowl? Make it quick, I’m almost done for the orn.”

“I am not sure I can make it quick, but I would appreciate your assistance.”

Ratchet made a strangled noise. “Naturally. Jump on the medical berth.”

“Can we do this in your office instead?”

Ratchet set down the tools and gave Prowl a longer glance. “Sure, why not?” The CMO lead the way to his office, Prowl trailing a couple of paces behind.

Ratchet waited until both were sitting to ask, “What’s wrong that you need extra privacy? The whole Medbay is empty.”

“I’ve been having trouble again with my tac-set.”

“Again?” Ratchet grunted. “If we didn’t need it to win battles I’d rip out the thing and have Perceptor reprogram it.”

“I hope that’s not the only solution.”

“So you want to turn it off again?”

Prowl shook his helm. “It's so soon after the last one that I suspect a different approach should be considered. The tac-set is becoming problematic when it’s not engaged in work, more-so than before.”

“Great,” Ratchet muttered. “I can have Perceptor help me install something that allows you to do short bursts of shutting off the tac-set and turn it back on, see if that does anything. That’s a band-aid approach, and I don’t like those kinds of approaches. Honestly, it probably won’t even work.” Ratchet sat up straighter and looked Prowl square in the optics. “Let me think more about this. I’ll talk about it with Perceptor and see if he has any ideas. Until then, why don’t we keep intermittently restart the tac-set?”

“I can accept that path, thank you.”

"Good. Now unless you've changed your mind and do want to restart the tac-set, get out of here so I can."

"Of course. Good evening, Ratchet." Prowl bid his farewell and returned to his quarters to give Bluestreak a quick call and then recharge, knowing the next two orns would be long as he prepared for Springer's arrival.

|||||

The work before Springer's arrival proved to be exactly as long as Prowl and his tac-set thought. It wasn't just getting things ready for Springer, but getting Powerflash ready to temporarily take on more responsibility while Prowl was holed up for upwards of an orn (and hopefully no longer) debating with Springer and Ultra Magnus on who Prowl wanted selected.

His heads up that it was time to wrap up came when Blaster sent Prowl a notice that he'd received a comm. from Springer. The Wreckers' ship was in Earth's solar system and would be arriving within two joors. Prowl ex-vented and reminded him that just because Springer had a strong personality didn't mean they couldn't work together.

Ultra Magnus, Prime, and Prowl waited outside the _Ark_ while Ironhide ushered in everyone who wasn't on guard duty, for the Wreckers attracted a lot of attention. This wasn't like before, where new troops were being transferred to the base, but visitors staying for a temporary visit.

A dot in the sky grew until it revealed the Wreckers' ship, the hull marked with superficial damages and patches. The door opened shortly after landing and revealed Springer, Impactor, Roadbuster, and Kup. Springer nearly swaggered off the ship, confidence radiating from his frame.

"Springer, it's good to see you and your team," Optimus Prime greeted warmly at the first Autobot down the ramp. He repeated his sentiments to the rest of the Wreckers.

"It's a pleasure, Prime," Springer replied.

Not far from behind Springer was Kup, his weapon straddled in his arms. Never the silent one, he added to his leader's greeting, "It's been a long while."

Springer turned to Ultra Magnus. "Anything I should know about Earth as a newcomer?"

"There's nothing unique about an organic world here that I've yet to encounter," Magnus responded. "It's good to finally discuss matters in person, Springer."

"Yes, it'll make it easier to _clarify_ some of my points."

Prowl's tac-set chomped at the way Springer emphasized "clarify" and returned that it was a potential dig at him with an 86.3927% chance. Prowl figured he and Springer would not get along well, but he hoped it wasn't already starting. They hadn't even greeted each other yet. "Good orn, Springer."

"Same to you. Should we get this over with, going over who you think who is right for my team?"

"If you would first like to let your team settle - "

"They just need to know where the training area and Rec Room is."

Prime nodded. "Ironhide can take the rest of your team to the Rec Room and then to the training rooms, where he'll debrief them on our rules. If the three of you want to talk about the situation, then by all means feel free to get started. Prowl and Magnus can lead you to the room."

Ultra Magnus and Prowl took Springer back to the same small conference room where they took his calls. Even before they sat down Barricade had kicked it into high-gear and was analyzing Prowl's comrades' every movement, every glance.

"Let's get this over with," Springer began, dropping into his chair as the other two graced their seats. "Admin stuff like this is not a Wrecker's calling."

"But it is the leader's duty," Prowl pointed out. That earned him a pointed look from Springer, and the visor said that Springer was likely annoyed with Prowl.

Springer opened his mouth to no doubt say some sort of a retort but Ultra Magnus cut him off. "Let's talk about this name first." Magnus slid a datapad before Springer to talk about Prowl's first choice and the one he'd first pointed in Ultra Magnus's direction. His name was Harbinger and his background screamed "Wrecker."

"Don't like him. Next," Springer announced halfway through Prowl's rundown of why Harbinger was a good selection.

Prowl's energon lines immediately constricted, as did his hands. "Please elaborate why you _feel_ he is not a good fit."

"I don't _feel_ it," Springer sneered, "I know it. I know his type, and they die fast because they get cocky thinking they can handle anything a Wrecker battle throws at them."

There was something to be said about Springer's argument, and name it was how Prowl disagreed. Ultra Magnus was on the fence, unfortunately for Prowl. The tallest mech said, "He may be Prowl's and my first choice, but there are other candidates. Let's see if anyone else of Prowl's top five is to Springer's liking."

Prowl's doorwings slightly twitched. He didn't like how they were in essence discarding Prowl's hard-sought first choice. Prowl had spent a long time on his first three choices, and to already have the top candidate tossed aside did not bode well for the next two.

[[Barricade recommends resisting the change.]] It gave him a list of reasons to pick.

Prowl started reciting the reasons. "He has the highest success rate of the types of battles you engage in. He also welds a high variety of weapons, starting -"

"That's not everything a Wrecker is about," Springer interrupted. "Wreckers are about wreck and rule. His style is too precise, and he's still cocky."

"Let's move on," Ultra Magnus suggested.

Prowl realized resistance was futile and that Springer was ultimately driving this meeting. In a way it made sense since he lead the team, but what was his methodology for picking the next Wreckers? Prowl couldn't fathom it.

After what felt like a deca-orn but was really only half an orn, they blew through all but one (#4) of Prowl's top five. Prowl felt restless when he had to give up his next five. By the end of the orn they'd picked two more names and Springer declared three to be enough. They were Pyro, Guzzle, and Rotorstorm.

Once they were out Prowl decided the first thing to do was to go to his office and do "real" work. The kind of work that would give him and his tac-set some satisfaction. He was roughly a joor in when suddenly his office shook.

_CRACK!_

Abruptly the half of his back wall by Optimus's side was cracking and pieces falling down. Prowl jumped at the noise and spun around in his chair, optics wide. What in Primus's name is going on?

Optimus rushed into Prowl's office. "Are you okay, Prowl?" Behind him were Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, both looking startled.

Prowl turned back around. "What is going on?"

"Well, after your suggestion on how to lengthen our offices, I decided to have the construction crew get started on my office. Turns out Sideswipe's piledrivers worked too well on the back wall and the force of his blows traveled to your office."

Prowl huffed. "I suppose it couldn't be helped." That was a lie, and if they'd asked him he could've calculated that happening. He didn't think it was appropriate to accuse his Commander of not thinking things through. That didn't stop him from clenching and unclenching his hands beneath his desk. "Now that my office is also a construction zone, I suppose I'll get started on packing up to use my quarters as my next office."

Prime nodded. "That would be wise, but I'm sorry to make the decision for you."

"Thank you and I'll manage."

Optimus turned to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. "You and the rest of the construction crew are excused for the remainder of the orn. Let's let Prowl pack up in peace."

"Sweet!" Sideswipe said before making a mad dash away from Prowl's office. Sunstreaker grumbled but followed his brother.

When Prowl was alone he huffed again and started packing up his workload, displeased just how much this was disrupting his work time.

::Prowl, are you okay?:: Jazz pinged him. ::I heard what happened.::

::I am fine. Why does everyone think I'm not alright?:: He knew he was exaggerating, a rarity for him, but he couldn't stop huffing his vents and walked a little louder than normal.

::Uhh... you want to come visit me at my office and maybe take a load off?::

::No, I just want to move my stuff and be done with the orn.::

::Is there more to this picture than I'm understanding?:: Jazz asked.

::My time with Springer and Ultra Magnus was not as... positive... as it could have been.::

::You agreed on something though, right?::

::That's not the point!:: Now Prowl couldn't help the rise in his voice. What was the matter with him?

::Whoa, okay, okay. Look, I'm going to come over and help you move. That'll be okay, right?::

::Sure, whatever you want.::

::'Kay...:: Jazz closed the line.

Prowl was almost done when Jazz showed up, Prowl's visor telling him that Jazz was worried. Prowl quickly said, "I'm fine. You do not need to worry."

"I'll be the judge of that." Jazz walked over to a box and grabbed it. "Wow, this is heavy. Ready?"

Prowl looked around and sharply shrugged. "Good enough for now, I suppose."

Jazz shifted the box to one arm and ran his other hand along Prowl's arm. "Hey, it'll be alright."

Prowl didn't answer, instead opting to silently pick up the other box, equally as heavy as Jazz's. They walked to Prowl's quarters in silence. Jazz kept glancing Prowl's way.

When they entered the Officers' corridor they saw that Optimus was hosting a party of sorts, with Ratchet, Ironhide, Ultra Magnus, Kup, and Springer. Jazz called out, "What are you all doing?"

Ironhide answered. "Celebrating Springer being here and saying our goodbyes to Mags."

"Huh," Jazz said quietly as they stopped for a moment, "didn't know they were all friends."

"It's probably Optimus and Ironhide extending a friendly hand, while a drinking excuse for Ratchet."

Ironhide called out, "Jazz, you should join us after you drop off Prowl's stuff."

"Thanks but Prowl and I got work to do on some stuff."

Ratchet said loudly, "I can make it a medical order for you to relax."

Jazz laughed as Prowl and he started moving again to Prowl's quarters. "Thanks, mech, but I think I'm going to help Prowl relax by getting work done. He's had a fun orn, if you didn't hear."

"I heard."

Springer muttered, "A fun orn indeed."

Jazz and Prowl didn't hear anymore comments because they walked into Prowl's quarters at that point. They placed the boxes on Prowl's desk and Prowl asked, "I appreciate the offer to work."

Jazz reached out with both arms and rubbed Prowl's arms. "If we got to work, let's work later. Right now you need to relax and burn off steam."

"How?"

Jazz chuckled. "I know how." He stepped closer and kissed Prowl heatedly. "With some raunchy interfacing, that's how."

Out of now where came a startled "Ahh!" and then red blurred past them, falling on the floor. Prowl jumped while Jazz dropped into a defensive posture.

"Sideswipe?!" Jazz gasped.

There on Prowl's floor was a sprawled and shocked looking Sideswipe. "Ahh!" was all he could say again.

Prowl snapped, "What are you doing here?"

"Getting your 'office' ready to welcome-surprise you!" Sideswipe yelped. "Frag me, what are you doing? My optics! My audials! Ahh!" Sideswipe pawed at his audials.

"What's going on?" came a muffled cry through Prowl's door. Then, "Ratchet, medically override the lock."

Prowl and Jazz could only stare in horror as the door opened, revealing Prime and all of his guests. Ratchet snapped, "What's going on? Why am I hearing screaming? Sideswipe?!"

Sideswipe jabbed his finger at the pair of black-and-whites. "They were about to interface!"

Caught.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy, Sideswipe, you sure do know how to be there for all of Prowl's major moments.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work has been slow and I can’t access school programs at work, so guess what that means? More fic chapters!

Prowl didn't know what to do. Barricade sprang to life, running at full force and throwing out calculation after calculation of how to get out of the situation. Was there even a way to undo what Sideswipe witnessed?

Jazz laughed uncomfortably while Prowl's face read horror. "It was a joke. I like to push Prowler's boundaries for fun. Everyone who's been on the base for more than a deca-orn knows this."

When Jazz saw Sideswipe opening his mouth, he realized Sideswipe must have witnessed the kiss as well. Hence his cries about his optics. ::Sideswipe, you say anything more and I'm going to kill you!:: he blasted.

That made Sideswipe close his mouth. The red twin realized what kind of precarious position he was in right now. "Uhh..." he pulled himself off the floor into a shaky standing position. "What he said." He returned to Jazz, ::Friends don't kiss friends like that, but I'm letting you have this one 'cause I don't want to die.::

Kup demanded, "What exactly did you witness, lad?"

"Just a joke about interfacing, now that I think about it." Sideswipe shrugged.

How this catastrophe ended depended on Sideswipe and Prowl couldn't see any good coming from that prospect. Barricade switched calculations and started simulating of all the ways this could go wrong for Prowl if Sideswipe told the truth or couldn't sell Jazz's story. Why did Sideswipe go from tattling on them to trying to sell Jazz's story anyway?

Never mind that, Prowl thought. Prowl's mind was working as fast as it could keep up with Barricade, who was throwing out scenarios faster than Prowl could fully process. Prime didn't have a ban on officer fraternization, but it was something implied with the handful of other rules. How could this orn go so irreparably wrong? First a horrid long meeting, then his office was damaged, and now his privacy was ruined. Prowl's fans started kicking up their speed.

Springer, ever vigilant as a Wrecker, caught onto Prowl's reaction. "If it's all just a joke then why are Prowl's fans running so fast?"

Everyone turned to Prowl and he had to override his fans to keep them running faster. He stammered, "Jazz's joke was highly inappropriate and now I'm being accused of it being true?"

Ultra Magnus replied, "You _were_ being accused, but it seems your accuser is taking it back."

Ironhide frowned but said nothing before Ratchet acted. The CMO came over to Prowl and produced a scanner from his subspace. "Prowl, your tac-set is overheating. Let's get you to Medbay." Ratchet pulled on Prowl's arm to get him to move and then used his body as a divider to get through the crowd.

Jazz watched Prowl leave and looked back at the crowd. He was worried how Prime was silent through all of this, his face unreadable. Everyone else looked skeptical, like maybe they wanted to believe it but the lie hadn't yet been quite sold. ::Sideswipe, say something!::

Sideswipe had no idea what to say. He fumbled, "Sorry to get everyone confused and whatnot. You know me, always misreading the situation. It's why I get in trouble half the time, right?" He weakly chuckled.

The group exchanged looks. Ultra Magnus suggested, "It must be all one big misunderstanding. I would like to think that the Second-in-Command and Third-in-Command would know better than to fraternize."

"Yeah!" Jazz latched onto Magnus's words, feeling guilty about Magnus's point. He did know better but he wasn't about to let that rule him. Plenty knew Jazz made his own decisions and skirted the rules.

Ironhide ushered the group out the door. "Let's get back to our hello/goodbye party. This can be dealt with later, if there's something mighty fishy about it later on."

Kup agreed. "This isn't something I signed up for. A party I'll do but officer squabbles over some punk's claim? Not interested."

As they started turning out the door Sideswipe ran up to them. "Wait! Don't leave me with Jazz."

Jazz remained in place until they were all gone to sigh in relief, until he realized Prime never said a word. What did that mean?

|||||

Ratchet walked Prowl to Medbay but when they were near the private room Ratchet changed gears and nearly shoved Prowl inside. As soon as the door closed Ratchet demanded of a startled Prowl, "You're fragging Jazz?!"

"No, you heard Sideswipe. He realized it was a joke. Now what about my overheating tac-set?"

"It's not overheating, it's just warm. You're fine, probably no worse than a minor battle," Ratchet described before his shocked tone returned. "Don't lie to me, I've been suspecting _something_ was amiss with you and now I know it's because you're 'facing Jazz."

"I'm not -"

"Oh don't you even try. You're busted. There’s been all kinds of suspicious activity around you. Tell me how long this has been going on, and don't lie. Lie and I'll reformat you just so I can teach you how bad lying is," Ratchet threatened.

Prowl considered lying when Barricade's odds of Ratchet carrying out his threat came back low. "Why do you need to know how long something has been going on, if something was going on?"

"Because I'm your friend and I deserve some answers for getting you out of that situation. Jazz I couldn't save but I figured I could get you out. Now spill, and don't try sweet talking your way out of this. You couldn't sweet talk a sparkling, don't try me."

Prowl could see no way out of this short of faking a medical condition.

[[Barricade can forcefully overheat.]]

[[Let's not actually risk a medical condition. Ratchet can keep a secret.]]

To Ratchet Prowl finally confessed some details. "Jazz and I have been more than platonic for nearly ten mega-orns."

"Ten mega-orns?" Ratchet practically screeched. "Ten? Ten. How in Primus's name did you manage to hide it for ten mega-orns?"

"Very carefully." Prowl may have given one detail but that didn't mean he'd give the rest so easily.

"Give me more than that."

"I've given you enough."

Ratchet pinched the bridge of his nose. "You are being stubborn."

"So are you. Now if I don't have a medical condition may I leave?"

Ratchet grumbled about fighting an uphill battle with stubborn mechs. "You will tell me at least this: you haven't spark merged, have you?"

"No," Prowl shook his helm. "We've been very cautious about my spark's condition."

"Good, at least that's something smart your doing."

"Will you at least keep it secret?" Prowl asked, chewing his bottom lip in silent plea.

"Of course I will. It's nobody's business who frags who, except mine. Now get back to your quarters and recharge. I'm sure the kind of orn you've had has consumed all of your energy."

Prowl knew recharge would not come easy to him after the orn he'd had. Regardless of his doubts he still tried after leaving Medbay.

Jazz was no better off. He couldn't recharge either so when it came time to wake up and prepare for his shift he was tired. He was about to get into the shower when his door chime went off. Wondering who could be bothering him this early, he commanded the door open.

Ironhide stepped inside. "We need to talk."

"We do?"

"I've been suspecting you and Prowl for a while now," Ironhide got to the point quickly. "Now that I know the truth, I want you to be straight with me."

"Mech, I told you that it was a joke. Sides backed me up."

Ironhide shook his helm. "I pretended to buy it back there for your two's sake but don't think for a breem that I believe it. Now what are you going to do about it, about you and Prowl?"

"I..." Jazz saw the look on Ironhide's face, the look that said lies would probably set Ironhide off on Jazz. "How'd you know? How long have you known?"

"My first suspicion that something was up was when after Prowl made his pitch to me about moving and then practically turned around and shoved the paperwork in my hands. I only thought something was wrong with Prowl at the time. I suspected the two of you when you visited me after I saw his arms were scratched up and you backed up his strange story."

"Huh, and here I thought I sold it pretty good. Alright, you caught me. What do you want to know?"

"First, how long has this been going on?"

"Roughly ten mega-orns."

Ironhide raised an optic ridge. "That's a mighty long time to be sneaking around. Is that why you wanted me to move?"

"Yeah, basically. Made sneaking easier."

"And the visor you got him, was that a courting gift?"

"What?" Jazz was taken aback by the question. "No! That really was to help him function better."

"Courting gifts can help, too."

"It was not a courting gift."

"I still think it was."

While Jazz's and Ironhide's conversation turned into debate Prowl was setting up his "office." He finished setting it up and started working when there was a chime at his door. He allowed the door to open only to find himself facing the twins.

"Sideswipe, I suspect I know why you're here, but why are you here, Sunstreaker?"

"Uh, yeah..." Sideswipe drew out. "When I was totally freaking out I may have used my bond to shell-shock tell Sunny here what I witnessed."

"I see," Prowl frowned.

"Hey," Sunstreaker huffed, "ain't our fault you’re doing those things with Jazz."

“It’s Sideswipe’s fault for being here at all.”

Sideswipe nudged Sunstreaker. "Look, I'm here to apologize and to make sure you're okay after my little stunt put you in Medbay. I've had some time to think about it and get mocked by Sunny about my reaction. I'm sorry that I freaked out and got you both caught. If I was less, let's say, 'stunned', I would've kept quiet in the first place."

Prowl didn't say anything for a long moment. "Since I'm sure what you witnessed was obviously not a joke I must ask why you said it was."

"Jazz comm'ed me to tell me he'd kill me if I didn't play along."

"If he hadn't I would have sent you on patrols in Siberia."

"Good to know my options if I'd been an honest mech."

Sunstreaker ignored his brother. "How are you? Sides said your tac-set was overheating."

"That was an excuse by Ratchet to privately confront me about his existing suspicions being confirmed."

Sideswipe cycled his optics. "So we're not the only ones who know?"

"If you must talk to someone about it, then you can talk to Ratchet and let him know you have my permission." Prowl didn't like the idea of being talked about behind his back, but he knew if it were to happen then it should happen with those who already knew.

"Oh good, because I was thinking about asking him to burn out my memories.”

Now it was Prowl’s turn to huff. "All you saw was a kiss and heard the word 'interface.' Do not pretend you actually saw the act."

"Whatever. Pass on my apology to Jazz? I'm still a little nervous about being around him. Death threats from higher ups that can send me on scary missions make me nervous."

"I will. You're dismissed if that's all."

"Well, actually -"

"Yes," Sunstreaker interrupted his brother and pushed him out the door.

Prowl's shoulders slightly relaxed. He hadn't realized how stressed he was about Sideswipe until he was confronted by the mech. Prowl was still stressed about the situation and how it complicated things to have others on the cusp of knowing for certain.

::Hey, Prowl,:: Jazz comm'ed him.

::Hello, Jazz. How are you? You would not believe who just visited me.::

::Same here, I got a visit from Hide. Who visited you? By-the-way, how are you? Didn't get a chance to talk to you after Ratchet grabbed you.::

::What did Ironhide have to say? The twins visit me because both know and Sideswipe is sorry about the mess. I am fine, I was only taken to Medbay so Ratchet could inform me he knew it was no joke. I told him we were more than platonic.::

::Funny, that's what Hide just said. Any good news about it with Ratchet? I've got good news from Hide's visit.::

::Nothing particularly beneficial came from my visit with Ratchet. What about Ironhide's visit is good news?::

::It took some schmoosing on my end but he's agreed to let us 'train' together.:: Prowl could hear Jazz's grin.

::That is good news, although it doesn't resolve the issue that we can no longer recharge together.::

::What, why not?:: Jazz demanded.

::This time you really can't get caught, there will be no talking your way out of a second time.::

::I'll be really silent!::

::With a Wrecker's audials?::

::Yeah,:: Jazz sighed in defeat, ::you got a point there. Guess I'm recharging alone for a while now. Or however long Springer is here. At least we have 'training.'::

For the next five orns they spent time each orn together under the guise of training. For the most part they just cuddled, enjoying the contact. On the sixth orn each received a call to meet Optimus in his quarters.

Prowl arrived first. "Prime, what can I do for you?"

Optimus used his whole hand to point to his living room chairs. "Please sit while we wait for Jazz."

Prowl obeyed and took a cushioned chair. "Why is Jazz coming?"

"I need to talk to my two key officers."

The vagueness of that statement triggered Barricade but Prowl tried ignoring the simulated conversations he was about to have. It did not look good to get worked up already.

Jazz made it in the door less than a breem later. "Hi Prime - Prowl?"

"Please, Jazz, sit down," Optimus repeated his gesture.

Jazz took the couch by Prowl, only to sink into the cushions. Prime took the chair that allowed him to face both of his officers. "Thank you for meeting me. It's time we discuss your relationship. I know it's more than friendly professionalism. The incident in Prowl's quarters and your sudden training exercise where neither one of you are scuffed are my key evidence."


	17. Chapter 17

Jazz felt very small in the couch, as if the cushions would swallow him. Prime continued, "Please do not lie to me and tell me that it's a joke or that you've been training nicely with each other. I want to know how long this has been going on."

Prowl froze while Jazz decided to heed Prime's words. He could claim it was a strategy-based training session and not combat, but if that didn’t work then he was in trouble. "About ten mega-orns, sir."

"Ten mega-orns?" Prime cycled his optics. "That's a long time to be sneaking around."

"Yes, sir."

"Why didn't you come to me and talk about it?"

Jazz sighed. "Besides regulation questions? It was something we refuse to put a label on. We just enjoy the ride to wherever it led us. If I must confess the truth, I'm happy I did. I haven't known contentment as I know it with Prowl for a long time." Jazz nudge Prowl who murmured an agreement.

"How so?"

"Tell me, Prime, have you ever tried recharging only to find it eluding you 'cause of fears or nightmares?" Jazz asked redundantly. As Commander of an army, they knew Prime had made dark decisions, even if Prowl and Jazz were the ones to usually make them.

"Of course, we all have."

"Yeah, well my fears come every orn, and the nightmares often enough. Every orn I got to make sure my quarters can't be touched without alarms going off. That security system I installed in your quarters doesn't quite compare to what I have." When Jazz had installed a security system in every officer's quarters only Prowl had gotten a system identical to Jazz's. It wasn't because Jazz thought they deserved less but rather because of the protests of how much extra work the security system put on the room’s inhabitant. "It was barely enough until I started recharging with Prowl. With Prowl, I don't know, it was just a million times better."

"I see." Optimus nodded. "Are you willing to put a label on it now?"

Jazz pondered the question. "Depends what happens here." Prowl numbly nodded.

"I understand." Prime's optics turned downcast. "Regarding the question of regulations, I must ask you both to refrain from fraternizing until I've thought about this. When you work together, anything that's not sensitive will be discussed with the door open. I want my officers happy, but I don't know about the precedent it sets and the cascading effects it could have. Will it allow the Decepticons to use more against our officers? I don’t know."

Jazz's audio horns burned and he could feel anger bubbling beneath his calm surface. He knew it was Prime's right to make that decision, but that didn't mean it sat well with him. He was caught between telling his Commander off and acknowledging the power Prime held over Jazz. "I see. Can't say I'm enthused about the order."

Prowl despairingly whispered, "Yes, sir."

"I'm sure you aren't, Jazz, just as I'm not enthused about this decision. For the record, I hope for your happiness."

At least that was something, but Jazz knew Prime would pick was felt right for the army. He couldn't argue against that. Instead he stood up and motioned for Prowl to follow him. "Come on, Prowl. Our Commander has some thinking to do."

|||||

Prowl and Jazz waited for Prime's edict. And waited and waited. Four orns past and not one word was said. Jazz could tell Springer was getting on Prowl's nerves but he couldn't do anything about it, not even be an audial for Prowl because of the open door requirement. Jazz was struggling too, his own work watching the troops growing more difficult as the new troops settled. Now they were visiting cities and getting into trouble.

Jazz wanted to talk to Optimus but he feared the reason Prime hadn't said anything was because it wasn't good news. Perhaps Optimus hoped it would all go away instead of him having to say something. That put ice in Jazz's veins, and he couldn't bring himself to say anything.

Another orn past and still nothing, and then before Jazz knew it, almost a deca-orn had passed since Optimus had confronted them. Meanwhile Jazz could barely stand knowing Prowl was burying himself in his work. He knew it despite not seeing it, not having much of a good professional reason to see Prowl. The tactician was still in his quarters, although he would soon be getting his lengthened office back.

Jazz was mentally exhausted from waiting on pins and needles for Prime, trying to keep the troops in line, and now he was asked by Prime if he could plan a recon mission to the Decepticon's base to see if they had any intel on the traveling Decepticon menace. So Jazz planned until he was ready to take it to Prowl. He made an appointment with Prowl and was loathed to know he had to keep the door open when he entered, per Prime's request. That was unless this could be considered sensitive, which in his mind was sensitive, as was all Ops missions.

Jazz counted down the kliks for Prowl but the weight of waiting was crushing him. He couldn't take the silence in his office anymore. He called both Ironhide and Ratchet.

Ratchet arrived first. Jazz was surprised and it showed. Ratchet scoffed, "Don't be so surprised, I was actually heading for my break when you comm'ed. What's wrong? Do you need something scanned?"

"No, I actually need to wait until - there he is." Jazz saw Ironhide come into the office. "Can both of you sit down?"

"Sure," Ironhide said.

"Why not," Ratchet replied. "What's this about if it's not medical?"

It was now or never. "Just so you know, both of you know about Prowl and me. You know, being something 'more than platonic,' I think was Prowl's words to Ratchet."

His visitors exchanged looks. "Huh," Ironhide said. "How'd you figure it out?"

"I've always had suspicions that something was up with Prowl, but after Sideswipe's little stunt it was pretty obvious."

"Yeah, about the same for me. Prowl doesn't hide these kinds of things very well."

"No, he doesn't," Ratchet agreed.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Jazz brushed off. "I didn't call you two here just to say that."

Ironhide asked, "Then why did you call us here?"

"Op figured it out," Jazz bemoaned. "And now he's banned Prowl and me from seeing each other until he makes a decision about whether or not we can see each other."

The office visitors exchanged looks again, this time cautious. Ratchet spoke first without confidence in his voice. "Maybe he'll give you good news."

"He told us that about a deca-orn ago. I don't know why he'd wait so long as if it was good news." Jazz looked them both in the optic and pleaded, "Maybe both of you could talk to him?"

Ironhide wasn't certain. "Don't know if we can influence Optimus in any way. He makes his decisions based on facts or his beliefs on the greater good."

"Why can't Prowl's and my relationship be considered something good? It's not hurting anyone." Jazz dropped his helm into his hands.

Neither Ironhide nor Ratchet could provide real words of comfort. Ratchet did have some training in helping another spark, even if he hadn't much used it. Ratchet rounded the desk and wrapped his arms around Jazz. "It'll be okay," he repeated.

Ironhide couldn't stand the pain his friend was suffering. He leaned forward and put his hands on Jazz's arms. "Yeah, it'll be okay."

Jazz wanted to believe. Too much time had passed for high hopes. He drank in their words none-the-less, trying to get back some sense of hope. Not much came.

Jazz pulled himself back together. "Thanks, guys. I won't hold you up any longer."

"You sure?" Ratchet inquired.

"Yeah, Ratchet. Your break has to be over by now."

"So I'm late to my next appointment for the first time. Big deal."

"No, don't be any later than you have to be. Hide, maybe you could keep an optic on the troops for me?"

"Sure thing."

Gradually they left and Jazz prepared for his upcoming meeting until it was time to leave.

"Morning, Prowl," Jazz greeted, his voice lacking any cheeriness.

Prowl looked up from his datapad and Jazz swore Prowl's optics were on the fritz. Jazz's optics narrowed in concern, not that Prowl could see.

Prowl spoke, his voice tired, "Is it morning?"

"Yeah. How long have you been working?"

"Let's just say you wouldn't like the number."

"Then maybe we should cancel this meeting and you can recharge?"

"Not while I'm on shift," Prowl shook his helm. "Let's get started."

"First things first: do you think we can close the door, or would that break Prime's order?"

"Let's ask him. I'll comm. him now." Prowl's dim optics grew distant for a few kliks before focusing back on Jazz. "He agrees that talking Special Ops mission details warrants a closed door." Prowl commanded the door shut without a klik's delay.

Jazz wanted to take the privacy and crush his lips against Prowl's, but in the end he put the datapad with the mission proposal details in front of Prowl. "You read through your copy, yeah?"

"Yes. I have a few questions and another few comments that Barricade believes will increase your odds of success."

"Still calling your tac-set by its chosen name?" That always unnerved Jazz, Prowl treating a dangerous piece of equipment like it was almost sentient. Jazz still acutely remembered his encounter with it when he hacked into an offline Prowl's system. He knew the equipment was dangerous.

"Yes, why wouldn't I?"

"Just... never mind, we'll talk about it later when we probably aren't being watched for time with the door closed," Jazz grumbled.

"When then?" Prowl asked rhetorically.

Jazz rudely laughed. "Good point. I guess if we've got time after this."

They didn't have time, for Barricade's comments were far more than Prowl implied. They would have maybe had time if they hadn't heard Optimus's and Ironhide's voices in the hallway. Neither mech stopped at Prowl's door, but Jazz and Prowl agreed to not push their luck.

Jazz didn't want to leave, seeing that Prowl was not handling being by himself very well. He knew the tactician was infamous for that, but it was worse. He did want to take a moment to make a suggestion. "Maybe you should talk to your brothers, if you haven't already."

"No, I haven't." Prowl's mouth turned into a sad frown. "I don't see why I should burden them with my troubles. They have enough with Smokescreen's troubles."

"Yeah, but you know they'd be there for you anyhow."

"I do, but I think Smokescreen's problems come first. Gambling deteriorates lives, while my problems are simply not spending time with someone I want to spend time with. I can't ask them to take on my problems." Prowl's optics turned downcast.

Jazz wanted to say more but Optimus's voice returned and he realized they might be out of time. He left despite internal protests.

The Head of Special Ops returned to his office and worked late into the orn until he was drained by the new changes. He was so tired, and his processor was wrapped around the mission, thinking of all the different ways this could go wrong for Mirage. Jazz wanted to be the one to go but Prowl's tac-set had made good points about an agent with a cloaking device being the right pick for the job.

Jazz dragged himself to the Officers’ hallway, dreading recharging alone after having a mission on his processor. He was so tired and feeling paranoid. He looked to his door and envisioned all the security system, gauging if it was enough. He missed Prowl's doorwings. He missed Prowl.

Jazz looked at Prowl's door, and then to Prime's door, and then finally to Red Alert's cameras. He stared down the hallways, seeing everyone's doors but not really observing them. How was he going to recharge? He thought back to the state Prowl was in when Jazz left him. How was Prowl going to recharge?

Jazz couldn't take it anymore. "Frag it," he announced. He didn't care if Red Alert reported him (if the mech knew), or if Prime himself caught Jazz. The TIC marched up to Prowl's door and pinged Prowl to let him inside the room.

Prowl's doors opened, revealing a very tired Prowl still sitting at his desk. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, you can help me by closing the door and let's get some recharge."

"But Jazz, we can't -"

"I don't care," Jazz declared.

Prowl's doorwings twitched. His lip quivered. "I've wanted to say those words, too, but how can we not care?"

Jazz could see Prowl's poor condition. He walked over and knelt before Prowl, taking his hand in Jazz's hands. "Prowl, right now I don't care if I get demoted or court-martialed, I care about not spending another recharge without you."

Prowl's optics glistened at Jazz's words. He turned his helm to his desk and brushed at his optics before returning to Jazz. "I am so very tired. Except for that orn you snuck over here because of your lost agents, I have not decently recharged for well over a deca-orn."

Jazz tugged on Prowl's hand. "Then come. Let's deal with the consequences tomorrow, with a good recharge."

Prowl disconnected himself from the datapad and let Jazz guide him up. Together they set the security system and then curled up in the berth together, relishing each other's touch after fearing the loss of it for so long.

The following orn came too fast, Prowl onlining first. Waiting for him was a message from Prime, asking Prowl and Jazz to meet Prime in his quarters as soon as they were up. Prowl lightly jostled Jazz, partly wishing he wouldn't wake up so Prowl didn't have to face the outcome of their decision. Jazz onlined quickly.

Jazz saw Prowl's pressed lips. "What's up, sweetspark?"

"Prime has summoned us," Prowl said quietly.

"Oh." Jazz rolled up into a sitting position. "Guess it's time to face the music. For the record, I ain't sorry."

Prowl didn't need a klik to think about it. "I'm not sorry either."

The pair walked together to Prime's quarters. Optimus allowed them in and they took the same seats they were in when they were last in Prime's quarters.

"Thank you for meeting me," Optimus began. Jazz simply nodded and Prowl stared stoically.

Prime tried starting again. "I know it's been a tough deca-orn for you. I have not helped by not giving either of you an answer about your situation."

"Nope," Jazz replied.

"I know you two recharged last orn together, and I find myself honestly not terribly surprised. I know you two always follow my commands, but I also don't wait longer than two orns to issue them. I can only suppose that the time I've taken has worn on your nerves?" Prime asked.

"Oh yeah," Jazz concurred.

"I have felt an effect," Prowl stated.

"And I have noticed one as well." Optimus cleared his vocalizer. "It's time I give you an answer." He paused to make sure he had their full attention. "When I thought about how I should decide my ruling for the good of the Autobots, I thought of your performances before the last ten mega-orns, during those ten mega-orns, and since my discovery. I concluded that while your work has never suffered, and could easily be considered improved since the last ten mega-orns, my greatest concern is your wellbeing. Cascading effects are no match to what this last deca-orn has shown me what it means to deny you each other."

"Sir?" Jazz asked quietly.

Prime's optics crinkled. "You two need each other, that much is clear. You have my blessing to continue your relationship."

Jazz reacted first by jumping up and grabbing Prowl into a kiss. Prime gave them a chance to enjoy his verdict before calling back their attention. "There is one thing I request of you, and that's to define what you have."

Jazz let go of Prowl to sit close to him. "Prowl, what do you want this to be?"

Prowl balked at the question. That was not a question he was prepared to answer, but an answer was needed. "I want this to be something that lasts. What do you want, Jazz?"

Jazz took a deep in-vent. "I want that, too. I want to be by your side as your partner. I want to never go a recharge cycle without you again. I know I will have to because of Ops, but I know that's the only time I can stand it. Will you be my partner?"

"Yes," Prowl smiled.

Prime thought to congratulate the two but saw that the moment was theirs to cherish privately. He waited as they gazed at each other until he thought he saw a chance for him to speak. "Why don't you two take a half-shift off and celebrate?"

"Thanks, Prime," Jazz accepted the offer. He pulled Prowl up and entwined his fingers with Prowl's. It felt good to be able to openly display their relationship. "Come on, let's go to my quarters. I want to dance."

|||||

As they were getting ready to return to shift Jazz suddenly said, "Huh, I don't know how we're going to go about our relationship. Like do we announce it?"

Prowl perked up from where he was wiping down his frame with a cloth. "Why would we _announce_ it?"

"I don't want to hide you being more than my colleague any longer."

"Then perhaps we simply don't hide but we don't 'announce' either." Prowl wasn't quite sure what to think of how others would think of him engaging in a private relationship. Barricade tossed out a few stats on the various reactions, the highest likelihood being shock and curiosity. There was one non-Autobot concern he had. "What of the Decepticons learning of our relationship?"

"If they caught one of us they'd still use the one against Prime and the rest of us. It's not like Megs holds back if we're unattached."

Barricade recalculated the odds of the Decepticon effect and the calculations came back in agreement with Jazz.

Out of nowhere Jazz started chuckling. "Maybe we should just jump up on a Rec Room table and I can smooch you in front of everyone."

"I do not find the idea endearing," Prowl said with a slight smile, understanding it was a joke. "Perhaps we simply put out a memo," he tried his own joke.

Jazz snickered. "Yeah, that'll work great, everyone reading that just as they start their shifts."

"Hmm, no matter what we do we'll disrupt the shifts. Perhaps we should keep this quiet."

"But I want to walk down the hall holding your hand. I'm tired of hiding now that I don't have to."

Prowl's cheeks grew flush. "I didn't know open affection was important to you."

"How could you, we've never done it. That said, it's not like I need open affection. I just like the option."

"I see. Perhaps we just start by telling those who already know and see how that goes?"

"I can dig that." Jazz nodded. "I got to meet with Hide in a little to go over the new troops and how they're handling being here. You can tell Ratchet at your next medical appointment."

"I want to tell my brothers."

"That sounds good."

"I will also tell the twins."

"Why the twins?" Jazz asked, confounded.

"Because if I don't Bluestreak will."

Jazz grinned. "Okay, I guess our game plan is set."

The game plan was put into motion by Jazz first, who ran into Ironhide before he got to the Rec Room. Jazz decided to put his plans of checking out the troops on hold and called over Ironhide. He asked Hide to walk with him to Jazz's office and Ironhide agreed.

Ironhide started first, his posture tense. "Is this about you and Prowl?"

"Yup," Jazz said as he sat down. Jazz couldn't lead up to the news, practically blurting it out. "Prime's given us the a-okay to pursue being together."

Ironhide was relieved at the news, smiling as brightly as gruff Ironhide could smile. "I'm glad for you. Don't ruin it now."

"I won't."

"Don't forget to get him more courting gifts."

"We talked about this, Hide!"

As Jazz's and Ironhide's repeated their conversation about courting gifts Prowl's brothers appeared in his quarters/office.

"What's up?" Smokescreen showed up.

"Prowl, you're looking like you actually recharged," Bluestreak exclaimed.

"I need to tell you something. I have been in a relationship now for ten-mega orns with Jazz." He didn't know what to say so he just laid out the truth.

"Whoa, what now?!" Bluestreak yelped. "How could you keep that away from your brothers for so long?"

"Come again?" Smokescreen asked. "I mean, what Blue said, but isn't a relationship between you two against the rules?"

"Prime has evaluated our situation and we have Prime's approval to spend time with each other outside of work."

Bluestreak jumped into a hug for Prowl. Smokescreen had a huge grin. Bluestreak babbled how excited he was for Prowl. “I’m so excited for you. Not that I wouldn’t be excited for you if it was someone else, but Jazz is such a great mech. I’m glad he makes you happy and I’m glad Prime sees that. What are the two of you going to do now? I bet it’s smooch a lot. It is going to be that, right? Because I can’t see celebrating any other way.”

Smokescreen joined in Bluestreak's celebration by squeezing Prowl's arm and saying, "Calm down Blue and congrats, Prowl. Unlike Blue I'm a little thrown that it's you and Jazz, but you two deserve it. Seriously, what are the two of you going to do now?"

"Thank you, and we haven't discussed our next plans," Prowl said as he lightly pushed Bluestreak off of him. "I'm not sure what you mean by being thrown because it's Jazz and me, but I'll let that slide because I do have something else to add. Right now Jazz and I are still figuring out how to deal with the good news and who will know."

"Like who would know, for instance?" Smokescreen raised an optic ridge.

"Only a few mechs at first but Jazz would like the option to not have to hide."

"I get that. After so long of hiding, it'd probably be nice to do the exact opposite."

"Perhaps," Prowl conceded.

Bluestreak crossed his spark. "I promise to say nothing to nobody."

"I was planning to tell the twins after you so you can talk to them."

"Good, because that one was going to be tough. Can you talk to them now?"

"I can comm. them, unless there's something else you want to talk about?"

Bluestreak shook his helm. "No - wait, I mean yes. Smokey's been good not gambling, that's something to talk about."

"I'm glad to hear it." Prowl hoped Smokescreen wasn't gambling behind their backs but he would give his brother the benefit of the doubt. "How are you holding up with that, Smokescreen?"

Smokescreen shrugged. "It's orn-by-orn."

They talked a few more breems about Smokescreeen until the eldest grew embarrassed. Prowl's brothers left after Prowl comm'ed the twins, who made their trip to Prowl's office quick.

Sideswipe was quick to say, "Hiya, Prowl. Anything I can do for you?"

"Still feeling guilty about what you did when you broke into my quarters?" Prowl asked. He didn't want to make the red troublemaker feel good just yet.

Sunstreaker said, "You don't even know. He mopes every time he sees you or Jazz."

"Well then you can stop. Prime discovered our relationship on his own and has given us his blessing to resume our relationship."

"That's great," Sideswipe ex-vented. "If it had gone the other way I would have felt so unbelievably bad. Like offering to clean your office with a human toothbrush bad. I mean, I wouldn’t really offer but you get the idea."

"Lucky for you that won't be necessary."

Sunstreaker snorted at his brother. "Cleaning his office would've been all on you. I have nothing to feel bad about. Who else knows?"

"My brothers, Ironhide, and soon Ratchet."

"Yeah, definitely tell Ratchet soon," Sideswipe requested. "Because he's had some choice words with me about this whole thing and I'd like to say, 'see, it was all for the best!'"

Prowl would have argued it was not for the best except that there was truth to that statement. If not for Sideswipe putting Prowl's and Jazz's relationship on Prime's radar, they would still be trying to figure out how to sneak about the base. "That is a stretch but I will acknowledge that this did work out."

"Whatever, I just know I'm no longer in trouble." Sideswipe had been punished for breaking into Prowl's quarters but the punishment last three orns by being left to Ratchet. Prowl figured that was not what Sideswipe meant.

"You will be if you tell anyone besides those I've listed."

Sunstreaker answered, "Trust me, we don't want to get any more involved then we already are."

Sideswipe pouted. "Yeah, what Sunny said, but does that mean you're going back to hiding?"

"We do not know what we're doing yet. Now if you will pardon me, I have things to do. I started this shift late."

"We get you," Sideswipe said as he bowed out.

Prowl didn't have an appointment with Ratchet for two more orns but he thought it best to move it up and give the news before someone else told Ratchet and have an angry Ratchet on his aft. Ratchet pinged back his acceptance of Prowl's appointment being moved up to the only open slot on Ratchet's calendar.

"What's got you in a hurry?" Ratchet asked three joors later.

"Why do you believe I'm in a hurry?"

"You moved up your appointment."

"That is true," Prowl concurred as he looked around. No one was close enough to hear. "I wanted to tell you that Prime has figured out Jazz's and my relationship and given us his okay to continue forward."

Ratchet's optics grew wide. "Really? I actually knew about Prime figuring it out - I guess Jazz never got a chance to tell you - but that's great news. Believe it or not, I'm happy for you. Maybe Jazz will get you to treat yourself better."

"I will endeavor to try better. You are right that I am better when Jazz is with me."

"Then I hope he's always with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a lot on my lunches. So long as the muses are at work, that's how this is gonna play out.


	18. Chapter 18

Prowl and Jazz decided to not announce it or engage in public affection. That decision was made with keeping in mind it would stick until at least until things were fully settled with the new soldiers and the base was less disheveled. There was the question about the other officers and Springer catching them as they spent time in each other's quarters, but they decided to address that as it came.

It first came in the forms of Red Alert and Inferno. The black-and-whites were in Jazz's quarters after Jazz declared it was time to use his quarters more often, when Red Alert pinged them and asked for admittance. Jazz and Prowl were not surprised.

"What can I do for you, Red and Ferno?" Jazz asked as he lounged on his couch. Prowl was on a chair reading something besides reports.

Red Alert eyed them suspiciously. He accused, "You're recharging in each other's room." Inferno touched Red Alert's shoulder to remind him to be calmer. They'd talked about this.

Red Alert forcefully relaxed the shoulder Inferno touched. "What I _mean_ is why are you recharging in each other's room?"

Prowl answered, "We are partners now." That felt strange to say but his spark fluttered at those words.

Jazz tacked onto Prowl's words, "We're partners with Prime's blessing."

"Ahhh," Inferno realized. "See, Red? Nothing suspicious."

"That was my concern but now I have a new one," Red Alert declared. "Our TIC and SIC are partners, and that can be used against us by the Decepticons."

Prowl spoke up, "Actually, my tac-set has assessed the situation and determined that no additional effort will occur on Megatron's part, since Megatron wants us captured almost as badly as he wants Prime. We know that if he did capture one of us he would not do anything worse with us together than with us apart."

Red Alert returned to eyeing Prowl suspiciously. "I want to see the calculations and simulations in a report."

That was as simple as plugging his tac-set into an empty datapad and letting it populate the information. "I'll do that when I start my shift."

"Good," Red Alert nodded and left.

Inferno smiled and said, "Congrats, you two." He followed Red Alert out, no doubt to calm down the Security Director.

The next Autobot that they ran into was Springer, who had noticed the traffic around his room. In the hallway he asked them, "What's going on?"

Jazz shrugged. "We're spending time together. Can't call that a crime."

Springer looked to Jazz and then to Prowl and back. He declared, "I want no part in this," and walked back into his temporary quarters.

The pair walked into Jazz's quarters. Jazz casually asked, "So did Red accept your report on how we're not screwing ourselves over with the Decepticons?"

"He's had some input, but he's largely accepted the data and charts. Barricade does wonderful work." Prowl said as he sat down in his favorite chair.

Jazz plopped down on the couch. "Still calling the tac-set out like it's a whole other person?"

"Does that really bother you?"

"Kind of," Jazz admitted. "I just worry about you and having an entity in your mind."

"Ratchet and I haven't done this for a while, since you and I were caught actually, but we can turn off the tac-set for a few breems," Prowl offered.

"Really? You'd do that for me?"

"I would do it for you and me. It has felt crowded inside my helm with all the constant conversation with Barricade lately."

"Would you do it for longer than a few breems? Like maybe come here so we can talk more privately and without the Medbay feeling?" Jazz sat straighter as he asked.

Prowl hesitated. He would do anything to make Jazz happy but was it worth the risk? He looked at Jazz's face and couldn't bring himself to disappoint his partner. "Maybe for half a joor."

"I'll take it! Let's go now."

"Let me ask Ratchet if he has time," Prowl smiled. Prowl pinged Ratchet and got a confirmation for an appointment at the top of the joor. "We have a few breems before he can see me."

"Well as much as I'd like to have fun in those few breems, I saw we just chill."

"Agreed."

They both walked to Ratchet and the CMO questioned them as soon as they arrived. "Prowl, do you really want Jazz to see this procedure?"

"It's fine, you are only going in my helm."

"Then lay down on a berth and I'll get started."

Prowl followed the command and laid down. When he rebooted he was met with Jazz's curious face and Ratchet to his side with folded arms. "I'm perfectly healthy, Jazz."

"Of course he is," Ratchet retorted. "I know how to shutoff non-essential equipment without causing harm."

"Right," Jazz replied. "Can I take him back to our quarters?"

Ratchet unfolded his arms. "Now wait, that's not something we talked about. I prefer having a patient undergoing a medical procedure to stay in Medbay."

"Come one, Ratchet, it's no big deal. You've done this a million times and nothing's gone wrong yet."

"Thirty-eight times. Most of them were Prowl sitting around for only a few breems."

"Then it's time to break out of that pattern!" Jazz stated.

Ratchet looked at the partners and decided to be on their side after everything they'd gone through of late. "Take him back, but _do not_ let him out of your sight."

"Wasn't planning on it."

"And no interfacing."

"Also wasn't planning on that either," Jazz smirked.

Prowl sat up during their conversation and waited to be addressed. Jazz motioned for Prowl by grabbing the air with his hands, silently asking Prowl to come closer as he talked to Ratchet. When Prowl was within arm's reach Jazz wrapped his arm around Prowl.

"Time to go, Prowl," Jazz said. "The clock is ticking."

Jazz practically pulled Prowl the whole way back to Jazz’s quarters, excited to know what Prowl was like without that tac-set talking directly to his processor. Last time had been a bit strange, but maybe this would be different.

Prowl hoped it would be different than last time since last time he was nervous and a little awkward. He almost gingerly stepped ped into Jazz's quarters, as if the extra half-klik would give him time to figure out what he wanted to say.

Jazz seemed to know exactly what was bothering Prowl. As soon as they both sat down he started. "I'll start by asking you what's it’s like without your tac-set chatting away?"

"Quiet." Prowl almost said he felt lost without the constant data stream. He had wanted this so why did he feel lost?

"Maybe that's for the best, given how much trouble that thing gives you."

"It's more complicated than that. It's difficult to explain what it is like to have something constantly talking to you, and sometimes it's good and sometimes it's bad," Prowl explained. "It's hardly halfway in-between."

"Huh, okay, I won't push." Jazz was a little disappointed because he wanted to know without the tac-set influencing Prowl's response. For that matter, Jazz thought, maybe he should ask other questions to know what Prowl wanted without AI-controlled data influencing him. "What do you want the most?"

"I want the war to end, of course."

"That's not what I meant. If you could have anything but that, what would you want?"

Prowl furrowed his brows. That was a very hard question, he hadn't thought of anything outside of doing what was necessary to win an otherwise endless war. "I don't know," he finally admitted.

Jazz knew the question was tough. He largely avoided it because it was hard to dream during a war. It was especially hard after some of the acts he committed. "I want someone to be with me as long as they'll have me so I won't be alone."

Prowl thought about that and nodded. "I would like to not be alone as well. Why do you think the main factor in a relationship is so long as they'll have you?"

"Because my duties will ultimately come first, and you know what kind of damage they cause." Jazz bitterly laughed. "I suppose the only time I could really have a lasting relationship without the damage affecting me is way, way after the war. Joke's on me, I guess."

Prowl stiffened. "You think we won't make it?"

"What? No, I didn't mean it that way. I mean - well, really what I mean," Jazz stammered. "It's been an old fear of mine to never have someone stay with me for life. I didn't mean you and I couldn't last, but I guess I'm just used to thinking the odds of success are low. What with me being Special Ops, and all."

A part of Prowl wished Barricade was back because he thought some calculations might comfort Jazz. That was based on the assumption that everything would work out. "I haven't had a problem with it. I know the sentiment for what it's worth. Although I haven't had much in the way of hard decisions to make while on Earth, I have made them and had my own nightmares because of them."

Jazz leaned over and kissed Prowl. "If you do, I'll be right here for you. I don't ever want to leave your side, for the record."

Prowl's cheeks grew warm. His own insecurities bubbled to the surface. "Why? I am often considered so boring that I'm thought of as a mindless drone, or so stubborn about following regulations that I'm an office drone. Either way I'm thought of as a drone."

"To the Pit with those who think that. You are hard to know at first, I'll admit, but once a mech gets to know you, you are great." When Jazz saw the blush in Prowl's cheeks fade and a dull nod from the tactician he decided to pour more into his words. "You're considerate of everyone, you're accepting of mech's personal needs, and you're almost passionate about making tactically sound decisions so everyone comes back alive and relatively unharmed."

Prowl's blush returned. He wanted to allay Jazz's fears as well. "You are generous, you keep morale going despite almost anything, and I don't think I've met an Autobot who puts more of himself into his work for the better of others than you. The missions you run are always critical and need to be done for the good of the army, for the good of others, and you do even the darkest of them without hesitation. Perhaps afterwards there's an effect on you but never one that stops you from living. I think anyone who can go from the type of missions you do and then pull off parties for the troops' morale is a strong character."

Jazz was blushing now. "For the record, I like Prowl sans tac-set. I know your words are you and not some calculated approach."

"It's all me," Prowl said with a faint smile. "Tell me, do you wish for a family after the war?"

"Never thought of it." Jazz had to put some thought into that question. "I suppose that after the war and after the nightmares are as good as gone as they’ll ever be, maybe then I can revisit the question."

It was a fair answer, and truth be told he hadn't thought of it either until Jazz's mentioned "after the war" and it had time to be tossed around in his mind. It was not a tactically sound thing to do, so why waste time thinking of it? "I understand the dilemma."

Jazz smiled. "You do understand me, don't you? You seem to always understand me somehow. I tell you that I can't see having a partner for life, you who are my partner now, and that I can't see having a family even after the war and yet you accept all of that." Jazz placed one hand on Prowl's cheek. "I can't believe how lucky I am to have you in my life."

As Jazz professed his feelings about having Prowl in his life Prowl felt his own spark's feelings grow inside him. There was an overwhelming sense of tingling energetic warmth radiating from his spark. Words bubbled to his throat and he found himself revealing, "I love you."

Jazz cycled his optics, Prowl's confessed feelings not what he was expecting. Prowl so rarely expressed anything that could be considered a strong emotion, and yet here he was saying the strongest of them all. He wanted to say it back, but he'd long ago sworn he'd never say it. As Special Ops love was a dangerous mixture, and what he did for his duties challenged love. "I..." he swallowed. "I care deeply for you. Deeper than anyone I know." He couldn't say it; he couldn't say the L-word.

Prowl's doorwings stilled and he fought them flopping against his back. He never let them flop and he wasn't about to let them now. His spark felt oddly cold, the tingling gone and the coldness permeated to the rest of his body. Even his tanks felt like they were instable and he felt his nervous system intensify. He pulled away from Jazz's hand on his cheek, the touch too sensitive. "Thank you for caring deeply."

Prowl pulling away stung Jazz. He needed to say something, anything. "I can't say it. Maybe some orn I can, war or not, but not right now. Please say you understand."

Prowl whispered, "I understand." He didn't but maybe Barricade could make sense of it. "I think it's time for me to go back and have Ratchet reboot my tac-set."

Jazz nodded, the light in his visor dimming slightly. "Okay. Do you want me to walk you back? Ratchet did say to not leave you out of my sight."

"I think I'll manage by myself. The trip to Medbay will be safe."

"Oh, okay..." Jazz wanted to say more but other than saying "as a medical precaution" he couldn't think of anything. He doubted Prowl would appreciate the excuse. "See you at recharge?"

"Of course." As much as he disliked the feeling in his spark about how Jazz couldn't repeat the words Prowl said at his most vulnerable, he couldn't picture recharging alone.

When Barricade came online it resumed working as a normal tac-set and couldn't help Prowl with his troubles with Jazz. Prowl never felt so alone, and for the first time he found himself missing when his tac-set called itself Barricade. It was going to be lonely until the tac-set resumed being Barricade.

|||||

It took an orn for Barricade to come back, but during that orn Prowl felt like he didn't have a friend. Even recharging with Jazz had been a lonely experience, although he didn't understand why. Jazz had been physically there, and he wasn't emotionally distant, so why did Prowl feel lonely? Prowl didn't want to doubt Jazz's words, but Prowl had begun to doubt his. A strong feeling radiating from the depth of his spark compelled him to say the word "love," but was that the right word?

[[Barricade cannot definitively answer due to Barricade not being allowed to be present, but Prowl's reported physical and spark reactions suggest an emotion of a strong nature. An emotion stronger than simple caring. Prowl cares about Autobots. Prowl loves brothers. The strong feeling Prowl reports is closer to what data is recorded when Prowl is around his brothers.]]

The point made Prowl felt better about his words, although that made some things worse. Now that he realized it was likely he loved Jazz, then why could Jazz not love him?

Barricade had an answer for that. It showed him a web of information, connecting all the dots it could to show him how Jazz's responsibilities and roles made it nearly impossible for Jazz to admit love. Perhaps not even feel it. Prowl was not as comforted by Barricade's presence as he had hoped.

[[Barricade can only provide facts, scenarios, and educated postulations.]]

[[Of course.]]

[[Postulation: Special Operations is a dangerous field, filled with dark-constructed personas and near-illicit missions. The scenarios most likely to occur are that a persona will irreparably damage the core personality, deactivation without notification to home, or captured agent may be used against home.]]

[[But you said that nothing more could be threatened against me because of Jazz,]] Prowl rebutted.

[[Barricade provided the most likely details that Prowl wanted to hear.]]

Since when did Barricade take Prowl's feelings into consideration? Barricade had an answer for that. [[Prowl's efficiencies dwindle when upset. Certain scenarios are upsetting.]]

Prowl found it unsettling that his tac-set was hiding things from him for his greater good, or so the tac-set determined. [[What are the upsetting scenarios?]]

[[Megatron can make demands of Prowl instead of Prime only if Jazz is caught, should the Decepticons learn of Prowl's and Jazz's relationship.]]

That sounded reasonable, and Prowl wondered if Jazz didn't think the same thing but hid it from Prowl. Did that affect Jazz's decision or comfort with saying the word "love"? Were all the scenarios Barricade listed reasons why Jazz thought he could never say it? Could Prowl persuade him to think differently if Prowl could provide the answers?

Prowl was determined to find the answers that would make Jazz feel better. Maybe Jazz wouldn't say the word yet despite what Prowl would provide him, although Prowl could feel his spark sing every time he thought of the word and Jazz in the same sentence. Prowl just knew his spark yearned to hear those words and he couldn't help but feel a tug in his processor to feel it too.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Harutemu for advice on this chapter!

Mirage sat across the desk from Jazz and Jazz was doing his damnedest to focus on Mirage's mission. It wasn't as if Mirage took a lot of time to debrief but he was already starting to struggle.

Mirage curtly nodded after Jazz opened the conversation. “I am to infiltrate the Decepticon base tomorrow and find records on this traveling group. And if I don’t find records or data?”

“Then you stay for two orns in our hiding place, sneak into the base, and repeat until you find something or two deca-orn pass.”

“Understood.” Mirage took the report and read through the details, which weren’t complex since it was a straight forward mission containing most of it enemy intel he already knew. It wasn’t his first infiltration of the base, after all. From time to time he glanced up at Jazz and noticed a distant look in his face and body language. A couple of those times he asked Jazz questions and it took a beat for Jazz to respond.

When Mirage finished and put it down he asked, “Are you alright?”

“What makes you think I’m not?”

“I may not be able to see your optics but I know when you tune out. Normally you focus on me reading the report to jump in whenever I have questions,” Mirage pointed out. “This time you were slower than normal.”

“I’m distracted with personal problems. I know, I know, it’s unprofessional but sometimes it is what it is.”

“What kind of personal problems, if I may ask?”

Mirage was his friend, but was it okay for him to talk about it with a subordinate? Jazz decided to talk about it since he knew Mirage could keep a secret, and Mirage’s professionalism wouldn’t change. “Prowl and I are partners, and I’m not talking work. That’s something recent, and we aren’t letting it be known to the troops, just so you know.”

Mirage fought cycling his optics. That was serious news. “And the reason you can’t focus is…?”

“Prowl dropped the L-word, and as you can guess, saying it back is a tad difficult for this Special Ops agent,” Jazz said, his voice turning sarcastic at the end. Not sarcasm at Prowl but at the costs of his job.

Mirage nodded. He understood perfectly because he had had his own experience with that conundrum. “Would you like my advice?”

“Sure, lay it on me.”

Mirage thought carefully about how to word his advice. “When someone once said that word to me, I was unable to ever say it back. He was devastated about my inability to vocalize such emotions. What helped him get over it was when I asked him to move in with me.”

Jazz stared. “Are you suggesting that I ask Prowl if we can live together so he doesn’t get distressed about me not saying it back? Because that’s a lot to lay on a mech.”

“I’m only providing advice. A serious commitment speaks the volume we can’t say.”

“Yeah, well, part of the reason I can’t say it is what if we’re that serious and I don’t come back one orn? And what about some of what we do on our missions?”

“So you’re not serious now?” Mirage pointed out redundantly.

Jazz sighed. “If we’re calling ourselves partners then I suppose we’re pretty serious. Not coming back would cause just as much hurt and wonder to Prowl in our current state versus us moving in. He tells me he’s okay with what I do for a mission, no matter what it is. I’ll give it some thought. Why did the relationship end, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“The nightmares proved to be too much.”

When Mirage left Jazz turned to his work but procrastinated for a breem, Mirage’s suggestion echoing in his audials. Jazz knew Prowl could handle Jazz’s nightmares, so he didn’t totally fear what happened to Mirage happening to him. They promised that one of them stayed over at the other’s quarters every recharge cycle, even if they didn’t have a chance to talk because of long working joors. How different would moving in together be?

For one, Jazz couldn’t listen to his music as loud as he wanted; however, Prowl usually worked longer joors than Jazz, so it wasn’t like Jazz didn’t have time to himself. Not to mention there was always visiting Blaster.

Was moving in really the appropriate solution to his situation? There was always gifts, although there wasn’t much he could do on a planet where almost all gift-options were smaller than their hands. On occasion he suggested Earth reading material to Prowl but as recommendations so it didn’t seem fair to start calling it a gift. He could always make something, but what could he offer beyond trinkets? Prowl wasn’t much in the way of a materialistic-mech.

Gifts didn’t seem wholly like the right answer. The visor had been one thing, its purpose useful to Prowl, but Prowl wasn’t a busy-body mech and therefore needed little in the way of functional gifts.

Besides, were gifts enough? Was there something between gifts and the commitment of moving in together? They already agreed to spend every recharge cycle together now that they were free to do so. Spending more time together didn’t seem feasible without them getting on each other’s systems.

Jazz wasn’t able to voice a high-level of commitment so could he physically do it? He hadn’t lived with anyone in a long time. His reasons for not living with someone didn’t quite apply to Prowl since Prowl had shown an ability to handle Jazz’s eccentricities without fail. If anything they already half-lived together, Jazz realized.

Would Prowl even want to move in together? What would be Prowl’s hang ups?

Jazz pondered what Prowl’s thoughts on the matter might be but he couldn’t envision the practical mech outright refusing to discuss the idea with Jazz, although he might feel at odds with Jazz over expressed emotions. His thoughts lingered on the possibilities of Prowl’s protests but his thoughts on the matter dwindled and he returned to work. He did have a professional side after all, even if all the Autobots saw was him mingling with the troops.

|||||

Prowl was have a hard time focusing, even with Barricade cajoling him. So badly did he want to find a solution for Jazz not saying the words back to him. He would think about it after his duties except that was often when Jazz was around.

Prowl realized his work was suffering and that was _not_ something that was going to happen. He could stay in his office afterwards and think about Jazz, think about finding answers to what troubles might ail Jazz.

In the back of his mind he ticked off the breems until the end of his scheduled shift, but then he worked over it to reduce the amount of work waiting to be completed. Even with Powerflash there was plenty of work leftover. He sat back and relaxed his doorwings when he was finally satisfied with the remaining workload being more manageable.

Was there anything he could do about Jazz and his inability to speak those kinds of words? On one hand it wasn’t for him to decide or possibly force Jazz to speak, but on the other hand – well, on the other hand nothing. Jazz did not owe Prowl those words. All Prowl could do was offer data on how it would be alright to love someone. Jazz didn’t work with data like he did, having intuition be half of his main decision making. Intuition could be wrong.

[[Barricade can run simulations and statistics of probable fears for Jazz,]] It offered. [[Barricade must warn Prowl that the outputs may not be in Prowl’s favor.]]

[[I accept the risk.]] He wasn’t truly prepared to see bad returns, but he knew he had to know. It wasn’t like a bad return would diminish his feelings for Jazz, but it would be displeasing to know that he couldn’t provide something to make Jazz feel better.

Although the calculations and simulation runs took approximately was short it felt longer to Prowl. His doorwings had stiffen again while he waited. Barricade’s results were marginally good. A little less than half of them returned with negative results, but Prowl knew not all the facts would be beneficial to him. If he talked the good ones with Jazz he would have to acknowledge the bad ones as well.

He thought hard on how to approach Jazz until Jazz comm’ed him. ::Hey, Prowl, hope you aren’t burying yourself again.::

Prowl checked the time and realized it was late. ::Apologies, Jazz, I was distracted by tac-set calculations on other matters.:: He knew Jazz wouldn’t ask for details when it came to the tac-set.

::You coming over now? I was thinking my quarters since I’m back first.::

::I’ll meet you there shortly.::

When Prowl arrived he was immediately greeted by a pleasant smell and light, slow music. “What’s that smell?”

“Incense. Trying something new. You like?”

“It’s pleasant. Like a meadow.”

Jazz was pleased that Prowl showed minute relaxation. “I wanted to talk to you about something. Sit down on the couch?”

Prowl obliged and Jazz joined him, taking Prowl’s hands in his hands. “I talked to Mirage today about yester-orn. I figured bouncing it off another Ops agent would help.”

“I’ve been thinking about yester-orn as well, but you first.” He was prepared to argue against any agent’s points, should it not be in his favor.

“Mirage ran into the same problem as me, sometime ago. He couldn’t say anything more than I could yester-orn.” Jazz squeezed Prowl’s hands, nervous to continue. “He did find a solution to his predicament. He moved in with his partner.”

Prowl was not ready to talk that implied suggestion. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

“If you think I’m suggesting we have a conversation about living together, than yeah.”

“Aren’t you worried about the same topics that we discussed yester-orn?” Prowl’s tac-set was running through Jazz’s proposal.

“If you and I are serious now, there’s no change in those concerns than now versus moving in. I mean, we decided to recharge every orn together and now that we’re free to do so we spend a lot of our limited free time together. We’d have to make some new rules, but in a way there’d be little difference.”

Barricade came back with results that substantiated Jazz’s claim. Prowl worried that Jazz might not like living with him, given Prowl’s experience with roommates during his early vorns, but then Jazz’s point about little difference in living was valid. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“No, but I thought about it and I know I’d like to try. I want you to know how much I want you in my life.”

“Moving in is not the only way to show it.” Saying it should have been the answer, but Prowl didn’t want to bring up another sensitive topic.

“What am I going to do, buy you flowers?” Jazz’s mouth twitched into a smile. “In all seriousness, I can’t think of anything better you deserve. Making energon goodies and bringing them back to _our_ quarters. Race until we have to drag ourselves back to _our_ quarters, without debating whose we use. Going into town and figuring out what _we_ want to decorate _our_ quarters with. Things like that are what I think will show you how much I care for you.”

Prowl was stunned by what Jazz had laid out. The words made his doorwings quiver slightly. He didn't make energon goodies but he would be willing to learn. He hadn’t raced in a while. Before he got ahead of himself there were other matters. “What kind of rules?”

Jazz chewed his lips. “I’m going to need some time to myself and I don’t know if you have any of the same issues.”

“One of my main concerns is that I dislike clutter and you have a lot of possessions.”

“There’s always adding covered shelving so it doesn’t look like I have a lot of possessions.”

Prowl looked around Jazz’s quarters, Barricade running a simulation on how Prowl’s belongings would fit in Jazz’s quarters or how Jazz’s quarters would fit in Prowl’s. “That is possible, if we keep your possessions a little bit more controlled than now.” Jazz’s quarters weren’t in disarray, unless compared to Prowl’s minimalistic quarters. “I would like some time to myself as well. I suspect I will need it less than you, and I’m willing to work around your needs, but I will need private time on occasion.”

“No problem,” Jazz smiled. “I’d also like to have friends over.”

“We can work it out that you have your friends over and I’ll stay in my office.”

Jazz slightly frowned. “I don’t want my fun to come at the expense of you overworking.”

“The main options are for me to work, find something else to do, or for your friends to accept me. As I do not want to change the dynamics of your friendships, I think the best option is for me to stay in the office and either read non-work-related material or to keep up on work so I can leave on time the following orn.”

“Well, okay, if that’s the plan. You could always hang out with your brothers.”

“True,” Prowl agreed. Bluestreak would especially love that prospect, and Prowl wasn’t against it.

“Alright, so we’ll figure out some schedule where I’m either getting my alone time or hosting, and you’ll either catch up on work so you can have time off later, _or_ you take the time and do something fun that doesn’t need me. How does that sound?”

“That sounds like acceptable terms.”

Jazz’s visor brightened. “So do you think we should do it?”

Prowl shyly smiled. "If I say yes then who’s quarters and when?"

|||||

First they told Prime, who wished them luck after he got over his surprise. He questioned if it was too soon but Prowl pointed out that it'd been ten mega-orns for them. That question repeated when they told Prowl's brothers, but they were easily convinced that it was alright. Bluestreak said it was only okay with him if he got to help in the move.

Prowl and Jazz discussed it and determined it was easier to move into Prowl's well-kept quarters. They waited two orns until they both had a shift off, curtsey of Ironhide pulling double duty and taking on Jazz's shift. Jazz had packed everything up before then with Prowl's, Bluestreak's, Smokescreen's, and Blaster's help. Blaster learned of the relationship when Jazz approached his friend to tell him about his pending room change.

The move itself was carried out by Jazz, Prowl and Bluestreak, the other two working their shifts. Bluestreak hadn't shown up yet, and Jazz was getting impatient.

"I'm here!" Bluestreak called through Jazz's open door.

"What's in your arms?" Jazz asked and Prowl stared quizzically.

Bluestreak jostled his arms. "Sometimes humans get their friends plants when they move so I thought I'd get you a plant. Hound calls this a spider plant and says it's pretty indestructible so long as you don't neglect or over water it. I know you won't because you guys never neglect anything. He also said since you don't have an outside facing window that I should get a special lamp for plants. So I got you one. Want me to set it down now or put in Prowl's quarters?"

"Set it down here?" Jazz scratched his helm. "I don't know where to put gifts."

"Thanks, Bluestreak," Prowl said.

"Yeah, thanks Blue," Jazz belatedly added.

Bluestreak beamed and he set the baby plant and lamp down on Jazz's berth. "So where should we begin?"

"Just start grabbing boxes," Jazz instructed. There were plenty of them for the cultural collector.

Bluestreak grabbed the nearest box, as did the other two, and over the period of half a joor they moved everything inside and not inside boxes. Jazz declared after the moved most of the boxes that he wanted to change out the furniture. "We need my couch in here."

Prowl frowned. "I like my chairs."

"Then we'll put the chairs around my couch. See? We can compromise."

They pushed the boxes out of the way but took their time to carefully maneuver the couch into Prowl's quarters. They moved Jazz's rarely-used desk afterwards so it sat by Prowl’s. The room was now crowded but both live-in mechs said it was no big deal. Bluestreak wanted to start opening boxes but Jazz told Bluestreak he was only allowed to open certain boxes. Jazz had been very careful to pack his dangerous items into specific boxes, including items that didn't look dangerous.

It was not a horrible ordeal, Jazz and Prowl having already argued slightly over certain placements when Jazz started talking details when packing. In the end almost everything was decided before the actual move, Prowl building a simulation of the room with Jazz's possessions and then showing it to Jazz for approval.

Bluestreak left after the boxes he was permitted to open were unpacked. Jazz waited until Bluestreak left to unpack the dangerous items. "So you're still good with a room full of weapons and defensive tools?"

Prowl gave Jazz's cheek a kiss, the tactician working on his affection now that they were partners. While it was a stretch for him to initiate, it wasn't hard to carry it out. "I stand by my earlier words."

"I know, it's just living with an Ops mech is a lot of work and mental checklists."

"I already knew that from recharging with you."

"Right," Jazz nodded. "Let's finish unpacking then so we can properly celebrate."

"I wonder how you want to celebrate," Prowl drawled.

Jazz grinned. "Well yeah, _that_ and I really want to try making energon goodies."

"You seem excited to do that. You do realize we don’t have a fully function kitchen for what energon goodies require?"

Jazz shrugged. "I can rig up the right equipment. Speaking of equipment, how's that tac-set going?"

Prowl was startled by the sudden change in topic. "We're functioning just fine."

Jazz frowned. "I asked how the equipment was doing, not how you and it were doing."

"My apologies for misunderstanding your question. The tac-set is fine. Barricade has not had much to say about the move, so long as we stick to the room simulation."

"Let me know if it starts bothering you. Maybe we'll take a trip to see Ratchet later instead."

Barricade buzzed to life at that remark. Prowl asked, "Why?"

"Just thinking that maybe your 'we're functioning' might be a sign that it needs a reboot."

"It was a mistake."

Jazz frowned. "Maybe, but it would make me feel better about those kinds of slips. Please do it for me? We can come back here latter and just cuddle on _our_ couch while we wait out the clock."

"That does sound appealing, to spend time in close proximity of each other while I wait out Barricade's regression. It's not a bad thing to have Barricade return to its expected normal state." Prowl didn't mind reducing Barricade to a regular AI again, now that he didn’t need Barricade to assist him with Jazz and that it did lessen the amount of presence inside his helm.

Jazz smiled and ex-vented. "You can comm. Ratchet whenever you want. Maybe schedule it while we unpack or sometime later? Whatever is most comfortable to you."

"Thank you, I will look at his schedule."

Prowl did so and determined that Ratchet's second-to-last appointment was the only available slot. He had it scheduled and returned to Jazz, who was looking at Bluestreak's plant. "Hmmm," Jazz mused, "I think we should set up some irrigation system so we don't have to worry about forgetting to water it. I don't know about you, but I've never had a living thing to take care of."

"Neither have I. A water system and a timer for the lamp would be good."

They finished unpacking and despite the simulation Jazz wanted to make last breem tweaks, causing Barricade to have minor conniptions about its work being undone. Prowl realized Jazz’s request that the reboot was for the best, having to listen to Barricade’s complaining. He hoped Barricade’s reactions wouldn’t be a regular occurrence now that he lived with Jazz.


	20. Chapter 20

Jazz trotted with Prowl to the newly built racetrack on the orn that followed Prowl’s tac-set reset. It wasn’t a fancy racing track by any means, and it barely satisfied mechs with alt modes like the twins. Jazz hadn’t used it yet and neither had Prowl. They waited until shift change to use it, when it was bare because others were either getting on shift or getting energon. For once Prowl ended his shift two breems early to meet Jazz by the track.

“Ready?” Jazz asked as he transformed into his alt mode.

Prowl transformed into his alt mode and drove to the start line. “Ready.” He transmitted a signal to the countdown device. The countdown device hit zero, blinking and blasting out an audio alarm.

Both took off, at first evenly matched. Prowl had been an Enforcer and thus had a fast engine, but Jazz’s engine had been rebuilt since his pre-war orns so that he could escape Decepticon pursuers. They were doing two laps and Jazz was starting to edge out Prowl. The former Enforcer realized he was being too cautious and took the next turn a little sharper, putting him back in line with Jazz. As they come to the end Jazz gave it his everything and beat Prowl by less than a klik. His younger engine proved slightly better in performance than an Enforcer, which actually said more about Prowl.

Jazz jumped into root mode, laughing as his vents ran high. Prowl stopped and transformed, his vents working equally as hard. “You are hard to beat!”

“But beat me you did. Congratulations.”

Jazz grinned. “Thanks. Want to go again?”

“Only if our systems cool and no one is out here by then.”

They were in the middle of their next race when Autobots started coming out and watching. Jazz beat Prowl again but by the tip of his bumper. Prowl had taken all the corners sharper but so had Jazz.

They moved off to the sidelines, where they could only stand as the track didn’t contain any sitting areas. Jazz asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Better than I have in a long time,” Prowl said as he took a deep in-vent. “I forgot how exciting it is to move.”

“I’m glad.”

They moved inside and were on their way to their quarters to relax when Prowl noticed Sideburn only a few steps away. He hadn’t socialized with the mech since he’d seen him with Smokescreen, and now he was by himself playing on a datapad at the entrance of the Rec Room. “Jazz, can I meet you in our quarters?”

Jazz paused when Prowl did. “Sure; what are you going to do? It better not be work.”

“It’s not. I simply want to try socializing with the newest Praxian here.”

Jazz perked up. “I’ll see you later!”

Prowl walked over to Sideburn and waited for Sideburn to look up. Sensing a presence Sideburn looked up and his mouth opened slightly upon seeing the tactician. “Hello sir – I mean, hello Prowl. Anything I can do to assist you?”

“I’m merely curious as to how you are doing.” Prowl pondered if he should sit down or if that would be too much for the surprised mech. He decided to sit down and really give socializing a try. He waited for a response.

Sideburn took the klik for Prowl to sit to think through his answer to a superior. “It’s going well. The integration into base has been good. Jazz and Ironhide have been more than fair.”

“I’ve heard a few remark otherwise, but those seem to be the troublemakers. Luckily there hasn’t been much trouble in the way of the new Autobots.”

“I haven’t come across any.”

They stared at each other for a brief moment, each searching for something to say. Prowl said the only thing that came to mind when Barricade replayed their last conversation. “You were part of the Elite Guard?”

Sideburn squirmed. “Yeah, I spent some time with the Elite Guard. Did you know them?”

“I knew of them, and I deployed them in dire situations on behalf of Prime, depending on the type of mission. Other times I deployed the Wreckers.” Prowl knew the Elite Guard had some issues in member engaging in shady business, although he had not dealt with it personally. He never dealt with the Elite Guard on a mech-to-mech basis, so he had nothing to go on for Sideburn.

There was one nagging question in his mind, related to Sideburn’s question. “Of course, you would know that as part of the Elite Guard.”

“Certainly but you know how we were practically disbanded fairly early into the war. It’s almost a loss memory.”

Prowl’s optics narrowed slightly. Time spent in the Elite Guard should not be a lost memory. He needed to investigate.

Prowl forcefully relaxed. This was about getting to know one of the few Praxians left. He’d investigate later, but for now it wasn’t important. “What have you been doing since you were here?” He could manage small talk. He’d overheard it plenty of times. Things like, “how are you,” “what have you been up to,” and “things are good for me.”

Sideburn prattled off a short list, including the racetrack and making new friends to visit the city. Prowl was waiting for an opening to try another piece of small talk when another presence approach them.

“Pipes!” Sideburn said with an eager voice. “Sit down, tell me about your orn.”

Pipes did as asked and gave Prowl a quick “hi” before bemoaning his dating options to Sideburn.

[[Barricade suggests leaving. Prowl’s presence is being ignored.]]

Prowl found it rude to be ignored, especially as a higher up. Despite that, he excused himself without pointing it out and risk alienating Sideburn.

Jazz was enjoying his music and playing a videogame when Prowl returned. “How’d socializing go?”

“It went acceptable.” Prowl didn’t quite think so, thanks to the appearance of Pipes and his suspicion of Sideburn, but he didn’t want to trouble Jazz with small problems.

Jazz beamed. “I’m glad to hear it. I was thinking of just relaxing and trying to read that book you recommended, and you can read that book I recommended.”

“I welcome that idea.”

Jazz scooted over on the couch, making room for Prowl. The saboteur changed the music to something more relaxing and decreased the volume as Prowl sat down at the opposite end. Prowl had used Jazz’s couch before but it was different now think this was also his couch. Instead of sitting to have a conversation before moving on to other things he was doing something more regular. He moved around until he was more comfortable, looking for a setup that could handle a longer stationary position.

Prowl pulled out his datapad and began reading, finding the book recommended by Jazz to have a slow start, which he remembered Jazz warning him. Prowl noticed his frame starting to relax with the comfortable couch and coming off of a physical rush he hadn’t enjoyed in a long time. He cycled off his optics, relaxing further into the couch.

“Prowl, wakey wakey.”

Prowl groaned as his systems onlined and for a moment he was confused as he heard distinctive chuckling. He’d only cycled off his optics for a klik, so why was his systems onlining?

Jazz’s muffled laughter grew somewhat from Prowl’s side. “Someone’s tired from racing, I take it?”

“Of course not,” Prowl defended.

Jazz gave a lopsided grin. “Okay. Curiously, do all Praxian fans sound funny when recharging sitting up?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your fans, they sounded strange, like an oscillating noise. Never heard it before, but then you’ve never fallen into recharge in any position but prone on a berth around me.”

Prowl huffed. “I do not make that noise.”

“Yes you do. What’s it called?”

“It’s called nothing because I don’t make it.”

Jazz failed to suppress a smile. “Sure you don’t. Just like there’s so not going to be a recording of it next time you fall into recharge sitting up. Maybe we should get you into the berth.”

“I’m perfectly fine continuing to read.”

“Sure you are. Just remember I now live with you and you can’t escape me.”

|||||

The next orn Prowl beat Jazz to their quarters, Jazz having to escort some troublemakers back from the city. Prowl decided to get some work done while he waited up for Jazz. Prowl sat down at his desk and went to grab his favorite stylus only to grasp air. He looked around its usual spot, finding nothing. Prowl searched further around his desk and still could not find it.

::Jazz?:: Prowl comm’ed.

::What’s up?::

::Do you know where my stylus is?::

::You mean your favorite one?:: Jazz sought clarification. After Prowl confirmed Jazz answered, ::Gee, why no I haven’t.::

Even Prowl could pick up on the cheekiness in that answer. ::What did you do to it?::

::Nothing, so I guess you’ll just have to keep searching.::

Prowl muttered to himself as he closed the line. He was certain Jazz moved it and probably as some sort of a game. Prowl searched until he found it hiding behind a couch pillow. There was no way he lost it there since he worked at his desk. If Jazz did it again, Prowl would find a way to stop him. Barricade almost seemed happy when it provided scenarios of how to get revenge on Jazz. Prowl smiled. It might be fun to “scheme” without real consequences to his actions.

Prowl sat back down and worked until Jazz returned. Jazz entered while smiling. “I see you found your stylus.”

“Yes, strangely it was in the couch,” Prowl drawled.

“Huh, how strange indeed. Must have kept you from overworking for a little while.” Jazz laid down on the couch and put his hands behind his helm. “I think you can stop now since I’m back.”

“Is that what you’re going to do now that we live together, make sure I don’t work long joors?”

Jazz shrugged. “I never did like how long you worked. It’s just now easier to sweet talk you out of it.”

“I haven’t yet heard actual sweet talk from you.”

Jazz took that as a challenge. “Come here, sweetspark. Let me show you how much I appreciate living with you.”

Prowl thought about saying no for the fun of challenging Jazz but he was curious what his partner had planned. Prowl came to the couch and Jazz shifted so he was sitting sideways. Jazz patted the spot on front of him.

“Put your back to me,” Jazz softly requested. Prowl sat down, back to Jazz. The saboteur reached to Prowl’s back and began massaging the cables underneath Prowl’s back seams. Jazz murmured, “You’re so tense. You’re working so hard to keep this base in line, and I like that about you but I also like it when you relax. You’re so beautiful when you don’t have stress on the processor.”

Prowl’s doorwings and hands slightly quivered at the compliment. “A rare moment for me,” he admitted.

“Too rare, and now that we live together I’m hoping to find time for more moments.”

“You think I’ll have those?”

Jazz smiled behind Prowl’s back and warmly answered, “I think after all we’ve been through, we’ll have plenty of time to create and build upon those moments.”

|||||

Two orns later Jazz was getting antsy about Barricade again. Prowl had slipped once more and said “we” when referring to his tac-set. Jazz waited until he brought Prowl energon during his scheduled work break to approach the matter.

“Hey, Prowl,” Jazz greeted.

“Hello, Jazz.” Prowl accepted the energon, his empty Coff-E cube sitting next to him.

“How are you feeling?”

Prowl raised an optic ridge. “I feel like I usually do after half a shift of working. Why do you ask?”

“I was thinking maybe your tac-set might be bothering you.”

Prowl reflected on Barricade’s recent behavior. With Jazz and Prowl settling in it wasn’t making too much of a fuss in his personal life, although it wasn’t entirely quiet.

[[Barricade recommends declining Jazz’s request. Barricade has not be problematic for Prowl.]]

Prowl repeated Barricade’s words. “The tac-set has not been problematic for me as of late.”

“It’s a problem if you call it and you ‘we’,” Jazz counter-argued.

“That really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

Jazz pressed his lips. “Yeah, and I like it when you’re ‘you’ as well. Will you do it for me?”

Prowl thought about it again and against Barricade’s protest said, “Yes, if it helps you. Besides, Barricade is now acting up and I suspect it will continue to act up.”

Jazz leaned over and kissed Prowl. “Thanks.”

Prowl looked at Ratchet’s schedule. “He has an opening in two joors. I will do it then and meet you afterwards?”

“Can’t I walk you back to our quarters like last time?”

Prowl softly smiled at Jazz’s insistence that he spend as much time as possible with Prowl. “Of course.”

When it was time Prowl booted up a few breems past the top of the second joor. Jazz was very close and grinning. Ratchet was looking at Jazz like he was an idiot. As Prowl sat up the lights in Medbay lights went out and all machines were soundless. The only light was their optics and the low light from the hallway door shining through the cracks, indicating the rest of the base was on emergency power. Only the soft sounds of their fans could be heard.

Ratchet’s gruff voice cut through the darkness. “Don’t worry, Jack probably did something. Medbay has its own generator as a precaution, although it’s usually up and running faster than the base. The backup generator will kick in in three, two, one… one… what the Pit?”

Nothing came back on. Jazz spoke, his voice low, “Has this ever happened before?”

“No, never.”

“I’m comm’ing Bumblebee and investigating.” Jazz brushed Prowl’s arm. “You stay here, alright? Maybe Ratchet should get that tac-set back up as soon as the lights come back on. I don’t like this.”

Ratchet spoke before Prowl. “I agree.”

Prowl became increasingly aware of his dark surroundings and his spark pulsed faster. He was acutely aware of the energon running through his lines as his pump pumped faster. “What do you think it is?” he asked Jazz.

“It’s just weird. I’m sure I can fill you in once the power is back. See you soon.” Jazz moved away quickly, the light pouring in when he exited.

Ratchet reached over and patted Prowl on the shoulder, almost brushing his fingers against the scared mech’s neck. “It’ll be fine. Jazz is just paranoid by nature. Again, Jack probably did something.”

Prowl nodded and thought about his next words when the Decepticon alert sounded.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Battle with the Decepticons ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heed the tags. That and _maybe_ the AO3 warning “Graphic violence” applies to this chapter is all I’m giving away, although I’ve seen fics labeled graphic violence that are far, far more graphic. I don’t actually consider this particularly graphic, but that’s just my opinion.
> 
> Also, thanks to NTLDR for reading through and providing advice!

Prowl’s pump started pumping at max speed. “Ratchet, you have to fix me.”

“How? I can’t see and the machine the tool connects to is down.” Ratchet was calmer than Prowl because of his professionalism of being CMO during an active war, but he was not without worry. His Medbay had been compromised. He opened a conference comm. with Jazz and Wheeljack. ::Jazz, get to Optimus. Jack, fix the Medbay generator! It’s out.::

::Already on my way to the battle.::

::Got it, Ratchet, I’m on my way to the generator now.::

As Ratchet comm’ed them Prowl comm’ed Prime. ::Where is the battle?::

Prime’s voice was grim. ::Not far from our front doorstep.::

Prowl’s optics became wide. Ratchet glanced at Prowl. “You stay here. I need to go for any causalities.”

“I can’t stay here, I do the battle strategies,” Prowl’s voice growing in horror.

“Unless you can pull it off without the tac-set, stay here and don’t risk becoming another casualty.” Ratchet transformed and sped away.

Prowl didn't know what to do. Prime, unaware of his situation, comm'ed him. ::Prowl, where are you?::

Prowl gritted his dentae. ::On my way.:: He transformed and drove, but was not sure whether or not to inform Prime that his tac-set wasn’t available. While there was a chance that Prime would react the same as Ratchet if he found out, it was better than lying by omission. ::Prime, I need to tell you something.::

::Can it wait until after battle?::

::No. It's... Medbay loss power after my tac-set was turned off. I can assist with my existing knowledge, but I have no tac-set to rely on.::

Prowl was halfway there before Optimus finally spoke with a grave voice. ::You are better than nothing. I have faith in you.::

Prowl made it outside and could hear the battle noises. It would take him less than two breems to join the fight and then what? Assess. He needed to first assess. Prowl reminded himself to take this one step at a time, even if those steps needed to be lightning fast.

He transformed at a highpoint by the rear line and immediately surveyed the battle. The frontline, now populated with more Autobots, was holding but he could see cracks forming, meaning the Autobots in those areas were beginning to lose. Seekers were shooting from above at the middle and rear line, but Autobot sniper and rear line fire coming from Prowl’s side was hurting the Seekers. Jazz and Smokescreen were spotted in the middle, each using blasters on Decepticons about to slip through.

All the combiners were engaged in battle with each other. The Aerialbots fought the furthest from him, taking on Bruticus and the Stunticons, while the Protectobots were much closer and fighting Devestator.

Prime was approaching the frontline at a position away from Prowl, presumable to work his way to Megatron. The Decepticon leader could be seen, also approaching the frontline but without the hindrance of attacking Seekers.

He’d assessed the situation, now what? What calls did he make? The frontline cracks. He had to move some Autobots from the middle line to those cracks. Who? He couldn’t remember which new recruits were best suited for that since all that data was in his tac-set.

Sideburn as part of the Elite Guard would be one. Where were the Wreckers? Prowl quickly searched and found the Wreckers at the far end, working to swing into the Decepticons from the side. He couldn’t deploy them to the failing Autobot points.

Prowl gritted his dentae. Jazz would be one, as would Smokescreen and his smoke attack. He needed one more to cover the worst cracks. Could the mech Pipes be a frontline mech? Pipes had known Sideburn well so perhaps they had fighting history together. ::Jazz, Smokescreen, Sideburn, and Pipes! To the frontline.:: He relayed to the individual Autobots where each to assist.

Jazz and Smokescreen moved fast, dodging Seeker shots, while Sideburn and Pipes seemed unwilling to move. ::Move, Sideburn and Pipes!:: Prowl commanded. He had no time or options to second guess himself.

They moved, working their way to their positions more slowly than Jazz and Smokescreen. Prowl didn’t have time to think about why they were moving slow and if they should be replaced.

What now? Just monitor the situation until someone else fell? He wondered what the Decepticon plan was, for this battle seemed pointless other than to attempt reducing functional Autobot numbers. Since the same problem could be applied to the Decepticons, they typically avoided these types of battles in favor of targeted prizes.

Prowl stood frozen, reduced to scanning instead of planning a counterattack. His mind scrambled to find something to produce an active counterattack. He noticed the Wreckers were winning their fights and making good headway, but there was only three of them. The combiners were not free to move anywhere, both still very much engaged. The Protectobots were fighting a crippled Devestator, the Decepticon combiner's right leg thoroughly crushed. The Aerialbots looked like they could use assistance, especially against Bruticus, but who could assist?

Was it his imagination or were the Decepticons’ frontline staying put despite winning in some areas? Autobots that were winning were turning to their sides to overwhelm attacking Decepticons. Should they advance or keep overwhelming those frontline points? Prime was moving through the frontline. Should he reroute the stretched out troops to support their leader? Maybe if the frontliners that won their battles advance to the next Decepticon line and keep up with Prime – except no, that wouldn’t help Prime much because only those in his immediate proximity would make a difference. Was it enough of a difference?

As Prowl worked to break down the different and many scenarios by himself, sudden screams of pain came from the snipers. He snapped his helm back to them. Did he just hear Bluestreak’s screams?

Prowl froze, wanting to run towards the snipers but knowing he should keep and audial on it while his optics remained on the main battle. He tried but his optics were glued to the snipers’ invisible perch.

The screams died down and Decepticons emerged! How did they get behind Autobot lines? They were Decepticons he’d never seen before now. He looked at the rear line. These were the least effective in-close fighters and they were about to be attacked by a group of Decepticons that appeared to be hardened fighters. The Decepticon group was led by a black, white, and yellow mech with finials. If they could take him out perhaps the Decepticon group would fall back. Fall back right into the base’s front door. Why were they attacking snipers and the rear line if they could attack the base? They wouldn’t unless their goal was creating a kill enclosure, Prowl realized. They were now enclosed on all sides, save for Prowl's advantage point.

Prowl had never felt so alone and scared, judging by his skipping and racing pump. His limbs felt strangely cold while his chassis burned, as if all the energon in his body was stuck there.

The sounds of battle increased and his optics darted to the frontline. Now the Decepticons were really pushing. Prowl had to first deal with the rear line. He opened a channel for all but the frontline and warned, ::Rear line, you have enemies approaching you from behind.::

Those who hadn’t reacted to the snipers’ cries whipped around, their optics wide. They were clearly not ready for close range battle. Prowl couldn’t break the frontline to assist them. ::Middle lines, break up and those closest to the rear line join the rear line, those closest to the frontline join the frontline.::

Prime was nearly within striking distance of Megatron, the Decepticon leader preparing for close combat as he goaded Prime. If Prime could win then the battle would be called in the Autobot’s favor, and Prowl hoped for a quick attack ending with his leader's victory.

Cries of triumph came from the Decepticons in front and Prowl belatedly realized that the advancing line had defeated a section. The section he’d sent Pipes and Sideburn to defend. The Decepticons pushed through so they could form a circle, blasting forwards, sideways, and to those still holding the frontline.

There were more cries and calls of triumph from his side, from the rear-advancing Decepticons. They were decimating the feebler Autobots. Seekers were now hitting the back of each line, the backs of Autobots now facing the middle. Prowl was helpless to make a call.

The battle raged on in slow motion as Prowl scrambled to come up with _anything_ that would make a difference. Decepticons were starting to advance in Jazz’s and Smokescreen’s sections, suggesting that they had needed more Autobots to cover those areas.

::Wreckers, move to assist Prime,:: was all Prowl could think of saying. He needed Prime to win, even if that meant with assistance. They weren’t terribly far from Prime, but they weren’t particularly close either. Prime was taking blows as much as he was delivering them. Megatron managed to get a shot off, hitting Prime mid-torso and following it with a kick to the wound.

The Wreckers moved faster now that they had a goal in mind and not just attacking for the sake of winning against individual Decepticons. Springer made it through first, his fist ramming Megatron’s gun. Megatron’s arm swung up to the side and a weakened Optimus took the advantage to upper cut Megatron. Kup and Roadbuster held off the Decepticons trying to help their leader, leaving Springer to assist Prime.

The two Autobots started to overwhelm Megatron and he stepped back. After another step back the calls of battle from the Decepticons ceased and Prowl watched them pull back. The Decepticons had retreated but as Prowl surveyed the battlefield he knew the Decepticons hadn’t lost.

Prowl saw the Protectobots break down and he ran to First Aid. He wanted desperately to do something. “First Aid, what can I do?”

First Aid instructed as he welded parts of a new Autobot shut, “Go to an Autobot who is bleeding out and put pressure on the wound.”

It was not hard to find an Autobot that met that criterion. Prowl helped the moaning Autobot best he could, but he feared the worse when the energon still leaked. He was just as helpless now as he was in battle, and Prowl couldn’t help but feel it was all his fault.

|||||

Prowl stood in the hall leading to the emergency-powered Medbay joors later, his hands covered in dried energon and his legs drenched in energon-soaked mud. He could hear the noises of medics calling out codes and instructions, but he wasn’t inside yet. He couldn’t bring himself to walk the distance to Medbay because lying outside the door was the deactivated frames that the less-damaged warriors had carried. Next to him was the empty frames of Sideburn and Pipes. He’d made the wrong call.

Prowl stayed there, absently looking past the deactivated until the sounds of frenzied medics calmed down. Only then was he able to muster the strength to walk forward and enter. What he found was a filled Medbay, mechs on berths and everywhere on the floor but for a narrow path. On the berths he could tell were mostly the worst cases, like Huffer who Prowl wasn’t sure would make it with over half his chassis crushed. He couldn’t hear Huffer’s systems over the muffled moans of the injured. Inferno wasn’t much better, and Red Alert stood over him, the Security Director’s arm broken.

Prowl had yet to see Jazz, Bluestreak, or Smokescreen when the other warriors brought in the deactivated or injured. He didn’t need his tac-set to know what that likely meant.

Prowl’s search for his brothers and Jazz was interrupted by Ratchet calling out, “Optimus is in the back room. He’s lucid enough for you to talk to him, but I have him on pain medication.”

His duty came first. As he walked to Prime he resumed his search but didn’t find them. That didn’t mean much since Medbay’s size had been increased by construction.

Optimus was hooked up to several lines, including external energon lines. His optics were underpowered. Prime tried sitting up when he saw Prowl but the lines prevented him from bending his middle. “Prowl,” he called over when he gave up trying.

Prowl was instantly by his side. “Prime, I’m so sorry,” he said.

“Do not apologize, there’s no way we could have seen the Decepticons getting between us and the base,” Prime reassured. “I need you to make sure the duty rosters are modified to get all monitor and guard duty posts covered. We need to make sure no injured or deceased mechs are scheduled and leave openings.”

Prowl nodded. “Of course, I’ll handle that immediately.” Without his tac-set it would take a lot longer but it had to be done for the sake of the base. “Anything else?”

Prime groaned. “I trust you to make the right decisions for this base.”

“Thank you,” Prowl nearly whispered. How could his leader have faith in him after this debacle?

Prowl left and followed the path to the back. Even though he said he’d handle it immediately, he had to know the fate of his brothers and Jazz. In the far back was all three, curled up against each other, with Bluestreak offline. Whether he was recharging or that badly injured, Prowl didn’t know.

Jazz and Smokescreen didn’t look good either, their optics off but upon his approach he could hear their fans going hard. All three had blaster damage scattered along their bodies. Jazz’s hip was missing plating and energon was slowly oozing out between his fingers.

He dropped down to their level. “Jazz, Smokescreen, what’s wrong with Bluestreak?”

Smokescreen’s optics flickered on first. He pointed to the side of Bluestreak that Prowl couldn't see. “He’s hurting pretty bad from pain so Ratchet knocked him out.”

“How are you? How is Jazz?” Prowl looked to Jazz, whose optics remained off.

Smokescreen coughed and a trace of energon tricked out. “That’s not good,” he mumbled. “I think I’ll be okay. Jazz will be okay, too. Hey, Jazz.” Smokescreen prodded the offline mech. Prowl joined and touched Jazz on his shoulder.

“Wha…?” Jazz mumbled. When his visor powered on to half-power he asked, “What’s going on?”

Smokescreen answered. “You need to keep pressure on that wound.”

Jazz pushed down harder and the wound stopped bleeding through his fingers. Jazz cocked his helm. “Prowl? Are you okay?”

“I am uninjured. Jazz, Smokescreen, I am so sorry I sent you to those areas on the frontline.”

Jazz said, “Don’t worry about it; it’s not like you could’ve known the Decepticon’s plan.”

While the words were meant to be comforting it was a slap in Prowl’s face. His tac-set would have figured out the Decepticon’s plan. Prowl looked down before looking at Jazz again. “I’m still sorry.”

“It’s okay. I think you might be the only un-injured officer.”

“There’s still Powerflash and Ironhide isn’t too badly injured.”

Jazz's visor dipped in power and Smokescreen coughed a little more energon. Jazz weakly commented, "Love to talk to you more, Prowler, but I think the standing troops need you more. Optimus needs you to be with them."

"Of course." Prowl didn't want to leave but his duties were waiting for him, and it helped that Jazz knew the same. Smokescreen lightly nodded in understanding. "I will visit you when I have a moment."

Jazz faintly smiled at Prowl's promise. "Good luck having any of those."

Prowl finally pulled himself up and walked swiftly out, not wanting to see any more of the destruction. He had to re-walk by all the deactivated shells, and that left an awful pit in his tanks. His pace quickened and didn't stop until he closed the door to his office. His processor said to go to his desk but his peds said no. Although not physically exhausted, exhaustion caused him to collapse against the back of his door and Prowl pulled his legs into his chassis, setting his chin on his knees.

Prowl knew he should get up and return to his desk, but all he could see was Medbay, smell the burned frames, and hear pained noises timed with skipping fans. He cycled his optics and saw the hallway with deactivated frames. Suddenly his knees were wet and he looked down, seeing coolant run down his knees. A cool wetness dripped down his cheeks.

Prowl was not accustom to these emotions and he was feeling them with every piece of vengeance they had. His emotion filters weren't capable of blocking out this much. What the emotions were was indescribable to him, and he couldn't stop his processor from being consumed by obsession of what had happened.

[[Barricade online.]]

That startled Prowl and his helm jerked up. [[What?]]

[[Barricade online,]] it repeated.

[[How are you online? Ratchet shut you offline.]]

[[Barricade had long ago buried virus in Ratchet's installed emotion filters. The virus is set to trigger and return Barricade to an online state in the event the filter failed.]]

Prowl was flabbergasted. [[Why did you bury a virus there?]]

[[Prowl was under the impression that Barricade was negatively impacting Prowl's functionality outside of professional duties. Barricade thought if Prowl learned that was not true then Prowl would stop turning off Barricade. As a safeguard Barricade implanted the virus.]]

Prowl absently wiped away another tear as he thought about how his tac-set had infected him. Then it said, [[Prowl to assume required duties?]]

[[Yes,]] Prowl agreed. With his tac-set online the duty rosters would go fast with comparing it to what names signed in as functional enough for duties. He climbed to a standing position and carefully walked to his desk, his legs a little wobbly.

At the end of the list Prowl's tac-set gave him a condensed report of the situation. Only 12% of the base was fit enough to assume guard duty and an additional 24% were able to do monitor duty. Scheduling would be tight, but that didn't account for when Autobots were fit to leave Medbay. Whenever that happened, given that Ratchet would first provide care to the worst cases with his limited medical supplies.

Prowl sat back as he thought that over. Few would be able to return to duty before the next medical supply delivery, and there was no certainty how much was being delivered. It all depended on a distant facility, and that facility's raw supplies mine had been hit by the traveling Decepticons. The next batch would be slow to come. There was a very real possibility that the Autobots would be injured for a long while.

[[What is Prowl going to do about it?]]

What could Prowl do about it? He was primarily a tactician. A miserable one at that when by himself, he thought.

[[Prowl could get the supplies himself.]]

[[How? The supplies from the facility are likely still being manufactured.]]

[[Barricade didn't say to get _that_ supplies.]] it hinted.

[[Say what you mean, then. I'm clearly no good at figuring things out,]] Prowl bemoaned.

[[Prowl was in a difficult position,]] was all the comfort it could offer. [[Decepticons are wealthy with medical supplies.]]

Prowl bolted straight up. [[You want me to steal from the Decepticons?]] Something must have possessed Prowl and turned him delusional, or being brought online by virus damaged Barricade.

Barricade unveiled a plan. [[If Prowl goes undercover as a new Decepticon he can find the source of medical supplies. Prowl and Barricade can then assess if Mirage or Jazz's off-world agents can extract the supplies without tipping off Decepticon officers.]]

Mirage! Where was Mirage? Had he been captured or was there some other reason they were not warned? [[We should first search for Mirage and see if he can find their supplies without me trying to pretend to be a Special Ops agent.]]

[[Negative. Mirage cannot be counted on until his situation has been assessed. His situation cannot be assessed without approaching Decepticon base. Prowl is the only one available to do this because of what happened without Barricade.]] Prowl felt a stab in his spark but the tac-set carried out without regard. [[With Barricade, Prowl can save Special Ops agents and others.]]

Surely it was crazy to think that Prowl could infiltrate a Decepticon base. He could at least hear Barricade out before dismissing it as an outlandish notation. [[What would you have me do?]]

[[Prowl will work with Barricade to build a Decepticon-appropriate disguise. Prowl will approach the Decepticon base with one of the backgrounds that a Special Ops agent hasn't used to excuse Prowl's sudden appearance.]] It showed Prowl a list of prepared backgrounds for personas not yet utilized by Jazz's department. It highlighted one. [[This is a warrior with medical training. It will give Prowl a reason to get near their medical supplies without suspicion.]]

Prowl looked the plan over carefully. He thought of Jazz, how the saboteur was unable to do this mission and unlikely to do any mission for a long time. Bumblebee was on the list of those capable of only monitor duty. There was no one else, and Prowl did have theoretical Special Ops training for planning Special Ops missions. [[What about an officer to monitor the situation here? My absence will be noticed.]]

[[Barricade has a plan for that as well. Prowl can be gone for the full duty roster period without being noticed by troops.]]

Prowl felt a sting at the concept of being that unnoticed by the troops, but then there were few troops left to notice him. They would be stretched thin, having little time to do anything but work and recharge. [[What about Ironhide and Powerflash? How long will this take?]]

[[Barricade estimates Prowl's part of the plan takes only two orns with the possibility of up to five orns. Time period depends on Decepticon medics. Powerflash can be distracted with a high number of duties. Ironhide will not notice Prowl's absence if Prowl says he will work all administrative problems so long as Ironhide manages all in-person activities. Ironhide will not complain about the lack of administrative work. Ironhide will have no reason to visit Prowl if Prowl makes it clear that the workload should be clearly divided. Prowl should not divulge to Ironhide that Prowl plans for Powerflash to assume all administrative duties, and vice versa.]]

Was he really going to make this decision? It was absurd, yet he couldn't stop smelling the burned frames with images of bleeding nearly-dead shells cutting into his vision. If the only way to stop that and replace it with a base of laughing and walking mechs was to do this, then he knew what he must do. [[Show me how.]]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of arc one. Yes it's crushing after an overall uplifting storyline, but I promise the opposite for the next arc.
> 
> (Also, minor note: Sideburn’s bio says he lied about being in the Elite Guard so the Sideburn in here is also a liar)


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to go with "Align" Barricade but that wasn't going to work without surgical mods, so what's described is a mash up between Align Barricade and Prowl, which resulted in a heavier frame. No fat shaming! (Here's looking at you, IDW).

Prowl walked down to the area of the base they hid all the Special Ops equipment and disguises. He'd only been down here once, when the area was completed. Prowl didn't know where to look first but Barricade did.

[[First Prowl should start with body modifications,]] it instructed. [[The back is set up for that.]]

Prowl walked to the back of the room and found pieces of white-primed armor. The pieces could be constructed together to look like almost anyone. He remembered that while agents typically helped each other, they couldn't always have someone available so there was a system to fulfill the role of a second mech. He looked for a circular pad with a pair of hanging robot arms and found it.

[[What pieces do I bring over?]] Prowl asked.

[[Analyzing what's available.]] It paused for a few kliks. [[These ones,]] it said as it showed pictures of which pieces to take.

It took Prowl eight trips to move the pieces because much of them were small parts or strips, and each tripped he questioned himself more and more about what he was doing. He knew there was a certain amount of insanity to it, but his tac-set presented him with no alternatives to the problem and Prowl didn’t know of any solutions on his own. He had to do something, though.

The pieces would be fastened to his armor and give him a new appearance. It was preferable to an agent that they replace their armor, but the robot arms were not programmed for surgery. He also added a voice modulator to the pile, meant to go on his neck and change the modulation of his voice since that also couldn’t happen surgically.

Barricade guided Prowl to sync up with the station's computer so Barricade could upload what configuration it wanted Prowl's body. The image displayed on the screen and Prowl couldn't see his frame becoming _that_. What Barricade wanted had spiked knees, sharp armor around the peds, bigger shoulders, bigger forearms, clawed fingers, and a grill on the chassis. The frame was painted black, purple, and silver with a silver face. Extra pieces of armor were put on the helm to hide the chevron.

Prowl noticed there were wheels on the forearms. [[I can only change my transformation sequence; I can't relocate my parts without a medic.]]

[[The wheels are fake,]] Barricade explained. [[They will ride between your front tires and rear tires. They will rotate but not drive.]]

[[Why?]]

[[The less Prowl looks like a standard Praxian the better and these modifications will make your frame big enough to justify extra wheels.]]

Prowl wasn’t convinced the extra armor wouldn't make it so much bigger to justify extra wheels, but he couldn't argue against the point about not looking Praxian, a frame type that almost entirely hated the Decepticons. He'd still have his doorwings but Praxians were lighter frames, so his heavy, six-wheeled frame would be dismissed as some sort of distant hybrid. [[I accept these changes.]] Prowl fetched two tires with treads closely resembling his.

Prowl took off his visor and stepped inside the area with the robot arms, spreading his stance and arms. He gave the voice command and the arms immediately went to work, sorting through the pile and fastening the armor onto him. It was unpleasant and Prowl gritted his dentae as he held still. How do agents do this? Jazz hadn't done this since arriving on Earth, but before Earth he had done so plenty, and then some.

The worst part was his helm and doorwings, although having the voice modulator and its cover plate installed on his neck was almost as unpleasant. His doorwings would have sharp edges so edge pieces were fastened onto his doorwings, but his chevron took the most work to hide. The mods gave him the appearance of two small chevrons, sweeping back along his helm. A blank plate was installed over his Autobot decal. His police lights were removed.

When the modifications were done Prowl looked like some kind of horror. Black, white, and a red chevron were mostly covered in white-primed metal pieces. He could better see and feel why Barricade figured that Prowl's new frame would be large enough to justify a pair of extra wheels.

Next was the paint job, a process at least quicker and less painful. What hurt the most was when the plate covering his Autobot plate had a Decepticon logo painted on it. He felt dirty but tried dismissing the feeling away. It wouldn't go away and Prowl suspected he'd feel that way for the whole mission. He hoped Barricade's proposed plan would stick to two orns.

They were almost done with the body modifications, the next step requiring him syncing to a different computer and allowing it to reboot him with a new transformation sequence. When he onlined he felt very strange, as if what little of his body he kept was gone.

There were two steps left, letting Barricade download necessary data to backup Prowl's cover story and putting a red film on his optics to cover up the blue. After the lengthy download and covering his optics Prowl went to grab his visor before stopping cold. Should he bring it?

[[A yellow visor cannot be worn around Decepticons who have seen it on Prowl.]]

Prowl pressed it close to his chassis. He wanted a piece of Jazz to stay with him. [[It will help us read Decepticon emotions. Let me put a film around it as well.]]

 Prowl wavered between his limited options before settling on a new silver film to match his face. When he looked into the mirror he saw his red optics through the visor. Decepticon optics looking at him and knowing it was a mirror pricked his energon lines.

He tore his optics from staring straight ahead and looked himself over. Nothing looked like him, and he knew that was the point, but his frame felt cold and heavy.

Barricade continued after Prowl’s check was complete. [[Need to procure a Decepticon identity signal.]]

They had chips that gave off a Decepticon identity signal. They were ready to be programmed with a false identity. Prowl allowed Barricade to program one with the warrior/medic persona that Barricade suggested, watching the process with curiosity.

[[You changed the persona's name,]] he realized. [[You changed it to your name.]]

[[Easier to respond to Barricade than Blackrust,]] It explained.

[[Alright, I suppose.]] He waited until the inactive identity chip replaced his active Autobot chip to ask, [[Now do we leave?]]

[[Yes.]]

Prowl didn't want to do this, he didn't want to leave his home. [[Are you sure this will help?]]

[[The calculated results are near 100% of success if the work is given to an ideal Special Ops agent.]]

[[That's based on if my part is successful.]]

[[Prowl's part will be successful if Prowl listens to Barricade,]] it said. [[The sooner Prowl leaves, the sooner this will be over.]]

Prowl transformed, feeling out of his body as the new transformation sequence took place. The six wheels didn't help any.

Prowl drove out the secret entrance/exit, away from all guards and monitors. He was actually leaving and theoretically no one would notice him gone for two orns. The stinging from earlier returned but he drove on. Eventually the pain would subside, he hoped, along with the sights, smells, and sounds of Medbay still haunting his senses.

He drove until he was close to Decepticon territory and then activated the identity chip. He read the Decepticon signal and impulsively thought to attack it before remembering that was now _his_ signal.

He drove until he reached the piece of land where non-flying Decepticons were reported to stop and wait. He felt something click under his tires and he assumed it was the switch to a signal.

After a couple of breems a large Decepticon transportation jet appeared and Prowl realized it was Astrotrain. The transportation Decepticon landed next to Prowl and transformed, looking at Prowl expectantly. It was now or never.

Prowl transformed. "I'm Barricade," he said, not recognizing his rougher, darker voice.

Astrotrain looked at him suspiciously. "I just checked your name against the roster and I don't see it. I don't know of any new Decepticons that were expected. Not after the last group, anyway."

Now was time to sell it. "I was held up at my last battle, off-world. See my identity chip; I'm a part-time medic and it had some casualties. You know how _precious_ it is to get a Decepticon medic anywhere," Prowl snidely commented, doing his best to imitate Decepticon prisoners.

The Decepticon checked his chip and nodded. "Were you with the last group?"

"Of course."

"Then let's ask the leader why he left his medic behind."

The last group was not a random bunch of transferees? Prowl said nothing out loud, letting his tac-set do all the calculating. He climbed into the Decepticon's transformed alt mode.

They entered the base's tower and flew down into a wide hallway for all low-level soldiers. Prowl climbed out and Astrotrain transformed. Astrotrain pulled out a blaster but left it hanging by his thigh. "He's almost here."

Prowl soon saw the leader and realized it was the leader of the group that had attacked the Autobot snipers. Astrotrain greeted the leader, "Hello, Deadlock."

"Hey," Deadlock returned. "This the recruit you want to know if he's one of mine?"

"Yeah," Astrotrain answered as the gun was pointed to Prowl.

Prowl was ready to argue himself out of this one with the only meager argument Barricade could find when Deadlock shrugged and said, "Sure, we probably had a medic I lost. I left behind a few injured mechs at a Decepticon dump, and you said that he said he stayed behind for them? Yeah, sounds right." Deadlock waved Prowl over. "Get over here so I can give you the rundown."

Prowl walked swiftly over to Deadlock's side. Deadlock threw an arm over Prowl's shoulder and started walking him down the hallway.  In a low voice Deadlock said in his audial, "I know I didn't lose a medic because I never had one. Who are you?"

Prowl tried his best to look like he didn't want to give up the truth but had no idea if he succeeded. "I deserted the group I was with," he said in a voice lower than Deadlock, as if ashamed. "I couldn't stand them any longer so I came here to see if I could work with the very best of Decepticons. The ones who support Megatron directly."

Deadlock wolfishly grinned. "Then you definitely owe me. Do as I ask and I won't report you as a deserter."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want back in with Megatron. Do whatever it takes to make my wish come true and we're good." Drift unhooked his arm. "Mingle. I'll find you a room." Deadlock turned on his peds and walked a different direction.

Prowl didn't want to mingle with Decepticons. He wasn't here to make friends.

[[Barricade suggests reporting to the Medbay and introducing self to the medics. Make friends with the medics.]]

He wasn't good with making friends within his own faction and he doubted he'd be any better with Decepticons, but he’d try. He asked of the closest Decepticon, "Where's Medbay?" He followed the instructions and walked into a busy Medbay. It was nothing as bad as the Autobot Medbay, though.

The first medic he saw was Hook, leaning over a mangled and offline Scrapper. "Who are you?" the Constructicon barked.

"I'm Deadlock's missing medic, Barricade."

"A medic? Then you can help. Get to that one there, he has a punctured energon line."

[[Our cover story was a bad one,]] Prowl realized.

[[Barricade previously downloaded medical books in preparation of this role. Prowl should go over now and not look lost.]]

Prowl went to a Decepticon he didn't know, a Seeker, who was grumbling and holding in his leg's energon. "Lay down," Prowl instructed as Barricade rapidly fed him step-by-step instructions. Prowl picked up the strange tools that Barricade described and began working to repair the leak.

He managed to stop the leak, although the repair job looked like a novice did it. He better weld the armor over it so it didn't show. Prowl held a welding torch and hoped it was enough having seen all the welding Ratchet did, now combined with Barricade's instruction.

The welding seam looked better than the energon patch work, perhaps looking like it was performed by an educated novice. "Get out," he ordered as rudely as he could. "I don't want to see you back in here with anything short of a busted strut."

"Go frag yourself," the Decepticon said and strolled out.

Prowl didn't want to go back to Hook and get assigned more cases, but how else was he supposed to make friends with the medics and find their supply of critical medical supplies? He called out, "I'm done."

"Good for you," Hook replied sarcastically. "Go find someone else to patch up."

Prowl looked for the simpler cases and clumsily did what Barricade instructed. He worked his way through seven Decepticons before Hook declared a breaking point for the short staff of medics. Prowl was startled by it. Ratchet never declared a break when there was mechs needing assistance. Prowl looked around and realized no one was dying. Scrapper was the worst but not dying. Apparently that was enough for Hook.

Prowl followed Hook to a little alcove where there was an energon dispenser. Hook handed Prowl a cube, surprising Prowl. Any kindness in it evaporated when Hook demanded, "Who are you and why are you in my Medbay?"

"As I said, I'm Barricade, Deadlock's missing medic."

"I know that. What's your training?"

Prowl rattled off an academy and a few other tidbits found in the persona's file. "Where did you study?" Prowl tried making small talk.

"At none-of-your-business. This is my Medbay; I'll ask the questions first. How long have you worked as a medic, and why should I trust you to be here?"

Again, Prowl relied on his persona's background. "Most of the war, and you should trust me because it might be your Medbay but your doctor-to-patient ratio is not exactly favorable."

Hook grunted. "Cheap shot. Fine, you can stay. Now, you may ask any professional questions that aren't stupid."

"Some of these mechs look like the need repairing for core parts. Where's your medical supplies?"

"I'll show you later when we're free of these low-priorities, or the next break. Whatever I feel like doing. Break's over. Get back to repairs."

Prowl downed the rest of his cube and stacked it on Hook's empty cube. He continued to do repairs until he got a call from Deadlock. ::Found you a room.::

::Where is it?::

::Come to room G135.::

::How do I get there?:: Prowl asked.

::Haven't found a friend yet to point you in the right direction?::

"Hook," Prowl spoke up. "Deadlock wants me to report to a room. Do you know where I can find room G135?"

"First floor in the grounder's barracks. Look for the thirty-fifth room."

"How do I get there?"

"Do I look like a tour guide?"

Prowl set down his tools and walked out. He asked for directions repeatedly from anyone with wheels. He found Deadlock standing outside a door.

Deadlock looked irritated. "Took you long enough."

"I had some trouble making friends."

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, given your story how you deserted your team over a lack of friends."

Prowl didn't respond and looked to the door. "Do I have a roommate?"

"Yeah. Me."

Prowl's helm snapped back. "I'm bunking with the leader of my group?"

"If I’m going to put my neck on the line for you, then I’m keeping a close optic on you."

Prowl wasn't sure if it was luck or ill-luck to get Deadlock as his roommate. "Let me see my new room."

Deadlock opened the door, rattling off the code to Prowl and they entered. The room was bare, save for a chest. He asked, "Which berth is mine?"

"The one on the left."

Prowl sat down and Deadlock sat down across from him, both staring at each other from their berths. Prowl's visor told him that Deadlock was evaluating him. Prowl asked, "What have you been doing? If I'm supposed to be a part of your group, I should know."

"Before coming here we hit Autobot bases, some critical and some not. All depended on what was said by High Command or if one of my mechs had a grudge against a base."

So this was the group attacking their bases, the ones the Wreckers were tracking. They'd gotten to Earth a lot faster than projected. "When did you get to Earth?"

"A few orns ago. We were ordered to hurry up. Megatron had this great plan and wanted a Decepticon group the Autobots wouldn't know to account for."

"Do you know why?"

Deadlock grinned with triumph. "Our great leader learned from Soundwave's pet that the tactician was turning off his tac-set. Megatron wanted us here so the next time Ravage caught the moron turning off his tac-set we could launch an attack. Ravage made sure there wasn't a chance the tac-set came back on."

Prowl fought his hands to keep them from clenching. So not only was he guilty of getting so many Autobots injured or killed, he was also responsible for the battle. His past hopes to either find peace with himself without Barricade or to please Jazz had cost them all. His processor suddenly felt sluggish.

Thinking of Jazz Prowl wondered if Megatron knew about Prowl and Jazz. "Do we know why the tactician was turning off his tac-set?"

Deadlock shrugged. "We don't, but I don't know what Command knows."

That was no help. Prowl announced, "I'm tired." Not only was his processor feeling like it was swimming in mud but his frame had lost all energy to continue. He needed to recharge.

[[Barricade suggests Prowl return to Medbay.]]

[[I can't. I don't... I don't _feel_ like it.]] It was strange to say that, but Prowl couldn't fathom completing the orn without some recharge, as if that would make it all go away.

Deadlock cocked an optic ridge. "Whatever. I'm heading back out. Do whatever you want so it doesn't interrupt my recharge. That's in nine joors."

"I will work around it."

Deadlock walked out and Prowl rearranged himself to lie down on the berth. His arms and legs felt like they were made of lead and he wanted to drop them against the berth, but instead he curled up.

All of this had been his fault. Prowl shuddered and desperately tried to cycle down into recharge. Prowl wanted nothing more than to embrace recharge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're gonna be with the Decepticons for a little bit before I get back to the Autobots because of tempo. A lot more is going to happen in a shorter amount of time with the Decepticons than the Autobots, that's all.


	23. Chapter 23

[[Barricade requests Prowl power on,]] was the first thing that pulled Prowl into a conscious state. [[Prowl needs to get to Medbay.]]

Prowl groaned and pulled himself up, groggy from out-of-sequence, one-joor recharge. Why was he recharging when the orn wasn't over? Memories flooded him and he wanted to lie back down.

[[Prowl needs to complete the mission as soon as possible if Prowl hopes to return to Autobot base after next orn.]]

That was Prowl's goal, so his problems needed to wait until then. Prowl pulled himself off the berth and stretched. He wanted to recharge in his own berth and with Jazz, but that wasn't going to happen and it might not happen for a long time if he didn't complete his mission.

Prowl made his way to Medbay and entered to be met with a scowling Hook, although the scowl was not directed at him but at an injured and groaning Skywarp laying down on a berth. The Medbay was cleared out for all but Skywarp and Scrapper. Prowl silently joined the pair behind Hook's back and analyzed Skywarp's injury. He looked mostly burned, and part of his chassis was missing.

Prowl asked, "What happened to him?"

Hook jumped and turned on him. "Do not scare a Decepticon, especially a medic holding tools. Don't you know that?" he hissed.

"Sorry," Prowl said, although he wasn't certain he should have said that much as a Decepticon. "Why is his chassis half missing?"

Hook turned back to Skywarp who groaned again, earning him a slap upside the helm. Skywarp glared back. "This brain-sparkling keeps thinking that tinkering with Starscream's lab equipment is a smart idea. Do you have any idea how painstakingly difficult it will be to repair some of this damage?"

[[Barricade has analyzed the damage. The neuroromameter is damaged.]]

[[Why does that matter?]]

[[It is one of the components that's hard to have on hand, and is likely one of Shockwave's materials. Prowl should locate it and see if other supplies can be found. If necessary, Prowl should find the raw material used to make the components. Ratchet and his team can manufacture parts out of raw material if components cannot be stolen.]]

Prowl commented, "It seems he needs a new neuroromameter. Do you want me to fetch it for you so you can prepare him?"

"Whatever. It's in the back inside the red cabinet that screams 'touch without my approval and die.'" Hook held out a key. “Use this to open it.”

"Understood." Prowl searched for the cabinet, finding it relatively easy in the cluttered Medbay. The "scream" Hook mentioned was Devestator's face painted on the cabinet. Prowl opened it, expecting to find a plethora of circuit boards and other high-valued medical parts.

Instead he found a small quantity of components for every high-valued medical part. Prowl slumped forward before straightening back out. He grabbed the neuroromameter and brought it over to Hook. "You have so few of these."

"That's because too many and I'll have a thief take them. A thief I'm pretty sure named Swindle, but I haven't pinned it on him. Yet. One of us Constructicons will get him," Hook swore.

"How do you handle having so few of them?"

"I make them." Hook leaned up and tapped his medical tool against his chin. "Come to think of it, I'm running low on the raw materials. I'll need to get some from Shockwave soon."

"Where is your local supply and how soon is 'soon'?" Prowl tried to keep his questions casual.

"In another cabinet and whenever I feel like it. Now get lost, I don't need an assistant to work on this brain-sparkling. No one touches Scrapper but me."

Prowl left and headed to the Rec Room, which he was pretty certain was near the hallway Astrotrain used. His tanks reminded him he hadn't refueled since before the battle.

When Prowl reached the Rec Room after a few wrong turns he looked to see if he could find anyone he recognized and didn't totally despise. The only familiar faces he could find were Thundercracker and Deadlock, and overall he still despised Deadlock more than Thundercracker for what he did to Bluestreak.

Prowl fetched his energon and sat next to the glum Thundercracker, not sure why Thundercracker was down here. "I saw Skywarp in Medbay."

Thundercracker looked up. "Think you can spend time with a high-ranking officer like me? I’m only here because Skywarp’s stunt trashed the wall with the dispenser I use, so don’t think this as an invitation."

"I was only saying hi to you because of my trip to Medbay. Sorry to disturb you." Truth was Prowl was used to having the problem the other way around - not talking to mechs because he was too high up for it to be a comfortable experience for others. He tried with some Autobots, like Sideburn.

He reflexively folded inward as if punched in the abdomen at the thought of Sideburn. Thundercracker's expression changed to concern. "You alright?"

"Just feeling it a little from the last battle I was in."

"You mean the one we just had?" Thundercracker said with a drawl.

"No, I was not part of that battle. I arrived late," Prowl said, sticking to his new story. "I was late because of treating others after my off-world battle traveling with Deadlock."

"So you're one of them. Deadlock is a violent little glitch, isn't he?" Thundercracker wasn't asking.

Prowl had no idea and Barricade had no stored records, so he followed his visor's lead telling him that Thundercracker was being snide. "Very," was all he'd commit as a response.

"Uh-huh. So you said you saw Skywarp? How is he?"

"He appeared relatively fine. The damage is repairable and he must not be in serious condition if Hook felt fine slapping him upside the helm."

Thundercracker slowly shook his helm. "You are new if you think that's something to measure a mech's health."

Prowl didn't say anything, not sure how to talk to a Decepticon, let alone a high-ranking Decepticon. Instead he started drinking, waiting for Thundercracker to speak.

Thundercracker snorted. "You wouldn't believe the trouble Warp gets into with Scream’s things. This one time he glued a beaker down to mess with Scream and it turned out he used a nasty epoxy that the only way to remove it was with a highly-concentrated solvent. Problem was that solvent could eat through the beaker's materials and shouldn't be mixed with the liquid inside the beaker. Scream had Warp suck it out with his smallest optic-dropper."

"The two of them run into problems like that often?"

"Yeah, often. It's because Scream doesn't pay attention to us - " Thundercracker clammed up. He glared at Prowl. "Don't you dare repeat that or you'll find out what happens when you tick off a powerful Seeker trine."

"Your personal business does not need the likes of a lowly soldiers interfering.”

Thundercracker settled back down. "So what's your story?"

Prowl took another sip, hoping his tac-set had come up with a story that Deadlock wouldn't accidentally counter. Hi tac-set immediately said, [[Prowl follow Barricade's lead.]]

Because he and his tac-set communicated faster than any speaking mech Prowl was able to talk at a normal rate as he repeated Barricade's words. Instead of immediately speaking about Deadlock, Barricade took him further back. "I'm a medic, but like all Decepticon medics I double as a warrior. I started back in Rust Meadows base, which is a joke if you ask me. I spent most of my time before the war training to be a better medic, just to be sent to that scrap heap where - "

"Yeah, okay, grounder, when I asked for your story I didn't mean to start during the early vorns," Thundercracker interrupted.

Prowl was relieved he was cut off. "Sorry."

Thundercracker grunted. "Now that's a word you don't often hear around here."

Prowl's optics widened slightly. "I was raised right and no war is going to stop what was engrained into me."

"That's almost sweet. Lose the 'sorry' fast or you'll be sweetly talking out of your aft when others jump you," Thundercracker advised.

"Duly noted."

The seat next to Prowl bounced a little and he found Deadlock sitting next to him. One look between Thundercracker and Deadlock and Prowl fought fidgeting. The two had obvious tension as they stared down one another. Prowl kept silent, waiting for one of them to break.

Thundercracker was the one to break first. "You aren't ever getting close to Megatron again, Deadlock. Too many high-command officers want to see you off-world. Why Megatron asked for you to hurry up and get here is a mystery to us all, but for him to actually call upon you to see him? Never going to happen."

"That's what you say, but I believe in Megatron, and Megatron used to always believe in me. He will again one orn."

Prowl was tempted to ask what happened to Deadlock but he knew the conversation was not meant to include him. He happened to be a bystander, and one that would listened carefully.

Thundercracker sneered, "That wasn't exactly yester-orn when he stopped."

"He trusted me more than Scream."

"Hey, don't call him by his nickname; you did not earn that right," Thundercracker snapped. The Seeker got up and grabbed his empty cube. "You're scum, Deadlock, and you aren't ever going to rise again."

"We shall see," Deadlock returned, watching Thundercracker storm off. His optics lingered on the blue jet before turning to Prowl. "I bet you want to know what that was about."

He really did. "Not if it'll cause me more trouble than it's worth, _roommate_."

Deadlock chuckled. "You do realize what situation you're in. I could figure you know too much and kill you in your recharge at any time."

"Precisely."

"I came over here for a couple of reasons. One was Thundercracker and dealing with his attitude towards me. The other was that you aren't on any duty rosters, Cade."

Cade? Was he getting a nickname? He didn't want to be on friendly terms with this horrid Decepticon but he knew its advantages.

His tac-set agreed. [[Prowl should know that being friendly with the Decepticon that harmed Bluestreak might be the best way to _save_ Bluestreak.]]

Prowl hated that logic. "What and when do I start?"

"You need someone to show you around so you'll start with me on monitor duty."

"They have someone of your status on monitor duty?" Prowl didn't think the Decepticons would put a violent group leader on monitor duty.

"I think it's something about putting me in my place," Deadlock grumbled.

Prowl figured it was wise to not say anything at all. Instead he finished his cube and asked, "When?"

"In five breems. Looks like I'm getting to recharge late. Soundwave just happened to redo the rosters after the battle in a way that screws me out of a reasonable recharge."

"I see. Let me put away my cube and then show me to the monitors." Prowl removed himself to toss the cube away and headed back to Deadlock.

Deadlock walked Prowl back to the monitors. "You sit there, I'll sit here." They sat near each other, the seats separated by a middle set of monitors.

"What are we looking for?" Prowl asked. He hated to say what was on his mind but it had to be asked. "We know the Autobots took a real beating, so what's with monitor duty?"

Deadlock's optics glistened with mischievous. "You want to see something good? Go to camera 78."

Prowl do so and was shocked to see the front of the Autobot base. It was close enough to see the guards Hound and Springer, but the camera was far enough that an observer couldn't definitively make out the blasters he knew to be in their hands. "How'd you get that close?"

"When in doubt I say it was one of Soundwave's pets. That was before me, but someone showed it to me before battle. He showed me all the Autobot cameras we had. Most of them are on key Autobot scout routes, though, and I doubt the Autobots can spare some scouts now." Deadlock grinned.

Prowl felt a strange desire to punch Deadlock in the mouth. He did no such thing, instead asking, "What are those feeds?" He wanted to get as much of that data to his tac-set as possible so they could find the cameras later.

Deadlock gave a few more numbers and Prowl checked each one. Deadlock pointed out, "It's not like those cameras are going to show anything. Don't know why you're looking."

"Curiosity for the sake of curiosity," Prowl answered cryptically.

"So you're a nosy mech."

"Only when it comes to Autobots." Prowl searched all the cameras to see if there were any Deadlock missed. The group leader muttered about nosiness but carried on with his own monitors. In a way Prowl just wanted to see some Autobots being normal so he could finally ex-vent, but even Hound and Springer looked too worn to do much. Again, Prowl felt like someone had punched him in the abdomen. He switched back to Decepticon monitors and watched for anything useful for his tac-set.

Deadlock made conversation a few times while they watched but otherwise they kept to themselves. Towards the end of their monitor duty Deadlock started snickering.

“What?” Prowl inquired.

“Was just checking the feed from camera 78 again. Those guards haven’t switched out and you know they were there before we started. Autobots must be hurting if their guards are pulling longer shifts.”

“That’s why you’re laughing?”

“That and I was thinking back on the fight. Wasn’t even a real fight, but more of a warm up if we’d gotten to real warriors.”

Prowl’s audials grew hot. Bluestreak was one of those “not real warriors.” “Surely you thought the snipers were at least warriors.”

Deadlock scoffed. “Anyone who picked off a target from afar isn’t a warrior. They’re a soldier but not a warrior. Me, I like to fight my enemy so close I’m at risk of tasting their energon. Of course that’s not always feasible, given that most battles require a blaster in hand, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting up close and personal anyway.”

Prowl really wanted to punch Deadlock now so he deeply in-vented and ex-vented. He couldn’t blow his cover. He had to say something in response, something Decepticon-worthy. “I know what you mean.” He tried keeping his voice from shaking.

“Good, glad my roommate isn’t someone I'd classify as soldier-only. I was worried there for a breem when you called snipers ‘warriors.’”

Prowl decided to change topics. “Monitor duty is almost over.”

“It’s over as soon as our replacements are here, but yeah, it should be almost over.”

Their replacements were on time. Deadlock motioned for Prowl to follow him. “Let’s get some recharge before our next duty. I’m going to ask that you be assigned to Medbay next shift.”

Prowl followed Deadlock out and back to their quarters. He laid down and resisted recharging in the same position as earlier.

Deadlock grunted as he laid down as well. “Don’t recharge late or I’ll dump solvent in your seams. You won't make me look bad, like I don't train my warriors right.”

“When does next shift start?”

“In six joors.”

“I’ll set my chronometer for 5.5 joors.” Prowl turned off his optics. He tried cycling down fast into recharge, but now that it was quiet and dark, all he could see, hear, and smell was Medbay. It was haunting him again, and his limbs felt like they were made of lead. His processor became sluggish like before, his spark heavy, and he wanted nothing more than recharge, almost more than returning to base. If he could just recharge until all the Autobots were okay he’d be fine with that. He knew that would be a long time if he didn’t get the information of medical supplies to a Special Ops agent, hopefully Mirage, wherever he was.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic's plot is the most complex and longest I've ever written. It contains plenty of fluff, tension, hopes, destruction, and whatnot. How that's arrange is largely dependent on which of the 2 arcs the chapter falls under, but I won't name chapters by arc to avoid undermining the suspense. A/Ns will cover the arc change, reason being things happen in Arc #2 that can be considered dub-con. No sexual or bod-mod non-con. Trigger warnings will be used since I know some situations can be sensitive regardless of the amount of the topic's presence or explicitness in the story.
> 
>  **Non-Standard English Communication Indicators:**  
>  ::Words:: = Commlink  
> [[Words]] = Tac-set communication, between Prowl & the AI  
> «Word» = Hardline (between mechs)
> 
>  **Thanks for any reviews, comments, love, and constructive critiques!** I know c.c. definitions vary across authors, so if curious about mine see profile.


End file.
